


Kittens and Cats and All Things Cute

by thedarkandstormyknight



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: And Birds, Cats, M/M, all fluff, and lots of animals, basically this is v cute fluff, just fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-25
Updated: 2014-11-11
Packaged: 2018-02-18 18:20:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2357660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedarkandstormyknight/pseuds/thedarkandstormyknight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For reasons unknown to Enjolras, his friends decided it was an excellent idea to present him with small, grey kitten for his birthday, despite him insisting at every possible turn that he was /not/ lonely. He does the only thing available to him and goes to seek help at the local animal shelter. However, the strange dark-haired employee with a perchance for naming animals after classic literary figures or dead painters leaves a bigger impression than Enjolras would ever care to admit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In which Enjolras is overwhelmed by something smaller than his hand

To say Enjolras experienced some trepidation when Jehan simply handed him a box with a few holes cut in it and a merry “Happy Birthday” before skipping off was an understatement. For one, he hadn’t told anyone it was his birthday besides the two who already knew (Combeferre and Courfeyrac) and two, for years now, anyone who insisted on presents had been directed towards donating to different organizations Enjolras approved. The slight scuffling coming from the box only increased his apprehension. Quickly, he finished his walk to his apartment, went inside, shut the door, and started trying to gently open the box.

The minute he pulled back on cardboard flap, a little grey face with a pink nose and whiskers popped out. Enjolras stumbled back. A kitten. Jehan had seen fit to give him a kitten. In what way was that a good idea?

Oblivious to Enjolras internal screams or perhaps just ignoring them, the tiny kitten scrunched up its body, wriggled its butt, and tried to jump out of the box. After two unsuccessful tries, Enjolras recovered enough to pull the small creature out of the container and cradle it in his hands. It was a tiny, tiny thing, grey with dark stripes and white feet. Its tail also had a white tip as if it had been dipped in milk or a can of paint. The pink nose pressed curiously at Enjolras’ hands, and, to his amazement, and equally pink tongue poked out and scratched across the smooth skin.

“Meow?” asked the kitten curiously, peering up at Enjolras. The student quickly placed the animal back in the box and fished out his cell phone, brushing long blond strands of hair out of his face as he did so. In a few moments, he had Jehan’s number dialed and ringing. His friend picked up almost immediately.

“How do you like your gift?” Jehan Prouvaire chirped happily. Enjolras gripped the phone tightly, holding a staring contest with the little cat, its tail twitching back and forth.

“It’s a kitten,” he hissed.

“It’s actually a she,” corrected Jehan serenely. “And isn’t she adorable? She’s from the shelter I volunteer at.”

“Jehan, I can’t take care of a cat,” Enjolras protested. He appreciated the gift but really, the only plant that had survived more than a week in his apartment was a cactus and he had eventually killed that too. He was not equipped for taking care of living things.

“Why not?” Enjolras floundered for a second. Why not? He could list a hundred reasons.

“It needs love and attention and - and I have no clue what cats need. What on earth possessed you to think this was a good idea?”

“You don’t like her?” and here Jehan’s previously happy voice deflated. Enjolras calmed himself with a breath. It wasn’t his intention to upset Jehan. Then he looked at the kitten again. It had curled up in the box with a soft blanket and yawning, its pink tongue showing between a row of sharp, little white teeth. It really was adorable.

“No, I like it, uh, her, but I don’t understand why this sounded like a good idea. I’m not good with animals.”

“I thought you might like the company, now that Combeferre moved out with Courfeyrac.”

“I’m not lonely,” snapped Enjolras, immediately on edge. There was a polite cough from Jehan on the other end.

“I never said you were. I just thought the addition of a kitty cat might be welcome. Besides, the shelter is overrun right now, and really needed some animals to be adopted. So you’re getting a companion and doing a good deed all at once!”

“Jehan -” Enjolras started. But the poet smoothly interrupted him.

“If you really don’t like her, you can take her back. But go to the shelter first. They can help you on how to take care of her and what you need and then you won’t even have to step foot in a big, corporate chain store,” said Jehan brightly, knowing he had Enjolras beat. Because the poet had thought of everything, and Enjolras had nothing he could tastefully protest.

“Where’s the shelter?” Enjolras asked in defeat. He could almost hear the victorious beam in Jehan’s voice as he answered.

“I’ll text you the address. Oh and just a word of advice. The guy who works there is really wonderful with the animals and not so good with the people. Try not to glower too much.”

“Glower? I never -” but Jehan had already hung up. Mumbling about poets and their goodideas, Enjolras waited for his phone to buzz with the address, which it did momentarily. He glanced at the address, was pleased to recognize it, and looked back at the kitten which had now settled into a sweet slumber, curled up in the box. He didn’t really want to take it with him, but could he leave it in his apartment unattended? What if it needed the bathroom or got hungry?

Feeling very much wrong footed, he pulled out a few newspapers and a shoebox with paper shavings for the litter box and put down a saucer of milk from a teacup Combeferre had left behind when he moved out. There. Hopefully that would do it. Then he grabbed his jacket and headed back out to check out this shelter Jehan volunteered at.

The shelter was a short walk from campus, tucked out of the way and surrounded by fenced in pens and screens so the animals could roam around outside without getting lost. A few dogs barked as he approached. A dusty sign proclaiming the place open hung on the window. Gingerly he opened the door, grimacing at the loose state of the door knob.

The inside was a messy main room with doors leading off the edges, each with a painted mural of different animals. The walls themselves were covered with flowers and outdoor scenes. Some of them carried Jehan’s distinctive style, but the rest were painted by someone else. At the back was a slightly crooked desk, covered in papers and folders and spilled pet dry food. Slumped over all this was a sleeping employee. Enjolras couldn’t see much of the man, except for a head of crazy black curls in which - he paused, uncertain he was seeing things correctly - for in his hair nestled a large black crow with one beady eye opened and fixed on Enjolras. An empty paint-stained mug sat by the sleeping guy’s elbow and a plate of crumbled crackers and a few blocks of cheese. A dark grey mouse crouched by the plate, holding a square of cheese and nibbling contentedly.

Enjolras took a step forward, only for a loud hiss to come from his right. A mangy tabby cat snarled fiercely at him, glaring through yellow eyes. One of its ears was mangled and torn and his fur was littered with scars. As he moved towards the desk, the cat ran across his path, nearly causing him to trip. Overall, Enjolras did not like the place. It felt unprofessional and scattered, and he believed in first impressions. And that did not include sleeping on the job. Plus he had a cat he had no clue how to take care of loose in his apartment. So he felt little remorse for stalking over to the desk and practically slamming down on the little service bell there.

The effect was instantaneous. The mouse squeaked, dropped the cheese, and ran. The yowling cat leapt onto the desk and arched it’s back. The crow made a loud, reproachful sound and half rose from it’s nest of curls. And the man himself half raised his head and blinked blearily at Enjolras through the bluest eyes Enjolras had ever seen. He smiled as the student glowered.

“Hello, can I help you?” asked the guy, with a surprisingly smooth tone at contrast with the dark stubble on his face and even darker circles under his eyes. As he spoke, he reached blindly for the mug and brought it to his mouth, blinking in disappointment to find it empty. For once, Enjolras was at a loss for words. The first thing he could think of slipped out of his mouth.

“You have a bird on your head.” As soon as the words escaped, he regretted them. Normally Enjolras prided himself on his eloquence and formidable charisma. That sentence was anything but. The worker appeared amused as he poured himself a finger of whiskey in the mug. Enjolras felt his disapproval grow. Drinking on the job? Disgraceful.

“His name is Michelangelo. And’s he’s a crow. You here to state the obvious, or do you have another purpose?” drawled the guy. The blue of his eyes was very distracting. Luckily the derisive tone snapped Enjolras out of his fog.

“My friend recently gave me a kitten from here,” Enjolras started stiffly. What had Jehan thought, sending Enjolras to a place like this? How was this place not shut down? At those words, the guy started snapping his fingers at Enjolras excitedly.

“Yes! That’s right. You’re Enj - Enjras - Enjol - Enjy -” he waved his hand helplessly, looking to Enjolras for help. Reluctantly, the student supplied his name.

“Enjolras.”

“Enjolras! Yes, that’s right, Jehan’s friend, Enjolras! Fuck, that’s a mouthful. I’m Grantaire,” the guy grinned openly at Enjolras, extending a dirty, calloused hand to shake.

“Yours isn’t much better,” he returned with a scowl. Grantaire was unperturbed.

“Which is why I nicknamed myself ‘R.’ It’s much better. You don’t happen to have a nickname, do you?” he mentioned hopefully. Slowly, Enjolras shook his head. “Shame. I suppose I’ll make one up for you. Good thing I like naming people. I could call you, hm, Apollo! He looked something like you!”

“My name is Enjolras,” the man in question countered. He felt very out of control, which was one of his least favorite emotions. Grantaire shrugged easily, the smile still on his face despite Enjolras’ open hostility.

“Like I said, it’s a mouthful. Now, what can I do for you? How’s Iris doing?” Enjolras, who had been prepared to bring this meeting to business, was stumped once again.

“Iris?” Grantaire waved his hands wildly around, narrowly missing the crow that didn't so much as flinch.

“You know, Iris! Oh! You’ve probably renamed her by now. Your cat!”

“Its – her name is Iris?” Enjolras asked cautiously. He thought of his grey kitten with the pink nose and white whiskers.

“Yeah, you know, goddess of rainbows and shit. The, uh, the link between humanity and the gods. I thought it worked for her. What’s she called now?” Grantaire spoke with his blue eyes alight with curiosity and fondness for Enjolras’ new cat.

“No, um, Iris is a good name. It – it works for it – her!” Enjolras corrected quickly. “Um, it’s just – I’ve never had a pet before?”

“Not even a goldfish?” joked Grantaire with a broad grin that covered the expanse of his face. Enjolras’ scowl was answer enough.

“Okay then!” announced Grantaire, clapping his hands together and rubbing them gleefully. “Let’s get you set up!” He moved around the desk. As he walked, the cat sprang off the surface, sinking its claws into his faded orange shirt, and climbed until it was perched on his shoulder, where it licked a paw nonchalantly. Noticing Enjolras’ stare, Grantaire introduced the cat.

“This is Bastet, but we call him Bast. He and Iris are particularly good friends, actually. They ruled the cat kingdom together. But anyway, you’re not here to learn about animal hierarchies! Unless you are, in which case, let me know. But I’m going to assume you want me to give you what you’ll need to take proper care of your new baby girl. Yes?”

“Yes. Food, supplies, that sort of thing. And then I’ll be on my way.” Enjolras really just wanted this whole interaction over and done with. Grantaire headed to a collection of messy shelves piled high with different pet supplies. He started pulling things off, seemingly at random, and listing them to Enjolras.

“So, you’re going to need cat food – the instructions are on the bag – a water bowl, food bowl, cat bed – Iris likes places to snuggle up although chances are she’ll prefer cardboard boxes –  a collar, if you’re into that sort of thing,” here Grantaire threw a wink his way, causing a deep red blush to cover Enjolras’ face. He continued on, as if oblivious to Enjolras’ reaction, “some catnip toys, a book about taking care of cats, because you look like the sort to take comfort in that nice, hard knowledge, and hm, let’s see, do you need anything else?”

“I don’t know, you’re the expert,” Enjolras snapped before he could help himself. But like all other retorts he had directed toward Grantaire, this was met with a smile and another wink.

“Yes I am,” he quipped. “Now, I think that’s it. I’ll just grab you a litter box and some litter from the back. You know how that works, right?” Enjolras nodded. “Great. You want a scooper too? I’ll grab you a scooper.” Grantaire dumped the things on the desk and wandered through a door, crow in his hair and cat on his shoulder. Enjolras was left alone.

Or not so alone, he thought as he noticed the mouse return, a couple other rodents behind it. They all watched Enjolras warily. He felt uneasy under their scrutiny, even though they were just mice. Thankfully Grantaire was back in a few second, holding a plastic litter box and a bag of litter. He waved them in the air cheerfully. Then he caught sight of the little group of mice watching Enjolras suspiciously. Laughing loud and long, he reached out his hands and the hoard of rodents scurried into his open palms.

“Athena and her cronies don’t like you. What did you do, take their cheese?” he teased lightly. Carefully he lowered them onto the desk in front of the plate where they leapt off to nibble happily at the cheese squares present.

“Athena, Michelangelo, Iris, Bastet, you have interesting names,” commented Enjolras. There was something fascinating about watching this guy interact with the animals. He remembered Jehan’s comment about Grantaire being excellent with animals, not so good with people. He thought of the whiskey in the mug. What was he to make of this situation?

“So then you don’t object to Apollo?”

“Just tell me what the total is, please.” Enjolras simply wanted to purchase his things and go. Unfazed, Grantaire quickly sorted through the stack of supplies on the desk and named a price.

“Shouldn’t you scan them or something?”

“I’m pretty good at addition and subtraction as it was my father’s single passion,” responded Grantaire with a slightly bitter twist to his smile. “You can calculate it for yourself if you don’t believe me.” The offer was there, but the fight wasn’t worth pursuing.

“Fine,” Enjolras huffed, shoving money at the employee. Grantaire accepted the bills, carefully counted them out, and retrieved some change from an unlocked desk drawer. The whole system in this place was very bizarre and unsafe, in Enjolras’ opinion.

“Thank you, thank you, Apollo. Come again. And tell Iris we miss her,” called Grantaire as Enjolras grabbed the bags and rushed out of the shelter, leaving behind those clear blue eyes and easy smile. He had a kitten waiting for him.


	2. In which Enjolras most certainly doesn't blush, because that would be ridiculous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s not that Enjolras constantly thinks about the strange guy at the animal shelter, it’s just that he may or may not be slightly fascinated and distracted by said guy. And if he happens to end up outside the shelter for the second time in a few weeks, well, the polite thing to do was really to thank Grantaire for all his help, right?

It was almost alarming at how quickly Enjolras adjusted to the new presence in his life. Iris filled an empty slot, providing constant companionship in the most basic of ways. Soon Enjolras didn’t so much as blink when she curled around his feet under his desk or skittered across the floor chasing after a toy while he absently cooked dinner and read a book at the same time. He even grew accustomed to sharing his bed with her, despite the first several sleepless nights due to fear he would accidently kick the little kitten while sleeping.

Enjolras enjoyed the addition of Iris into his household, although he insisted constantly to his worried friend that he wasn’t lonely. And he really wasn’t. Sure, it was strange living without Combeferre for the first time in several years, and he missed the constant presence of his friend desperately, but he wasn’t lonely. He just sometimes missed having a housemate or having Combeferre always a cheerful shout away. But he kept those thoughts to himself. He didn’t want his best friend to ever feel guilty for leaving to move in with his boyfriend.

Combeferre and Courfeyrac may seem like an odd couple to those who didn’t know them, but Enjolras did, and he understood how perfectly suited the two were for each other. He was happy for them, he really was, but it didn’t stop him from sometimes feeling a little left on the side. For as long as Enjolras could remember, it had been the three of them. It still was, but Combeferre and Courfeyrac’s relationship added a new dynamic. Sometimes he missed the old days.

However, the addition of Iris went a long way to filling some of the hole left by Combeferre. The only irritation was the increase in Jehan’s comments about Grantaire, the shelter’s only full-time employee. In fact, he very pointedly ignored any mention of the blue-eyed man, although he could feel his face turn red each time.

Enjolras was unsure of what drew him to Grantaire and why the image of the dark haired guy with the crow happily settled in his curls refused to leave him. He only knew that he was irrationally fascinated with Grantaire and wanted to know everything about him. It was frustrating and distracting. He was a grown man trying to earn a college degree and run a group of energetic activists. He needed all his focus directed towards what was important. Mooning over strange boys with unprofessional attitudes and a habit of drinking whiskey at work was not included in that category.

“You know, you should go see him,” commented Combeferre lightly. He was over visiting as he commonly did, mostly because Enjolras and Combeferre could never remain separated for long. Even when they were in different kindergarten classes, they had managed to time their bathroom breaks together. Teachers had since learned that it was best for everyone that they should have the same teacher. Combeferre had taken a real shine to Iris and Enjolras was half convinced he only visited to play with the kitten and charm her with new toys.

“Who?” murmured Enjolras absently. He was busy studying for an upcoming test while Combeferre sprawled on the floor, letting Iris bat at his hands. The student glanced up to see Combeferre holding a piece of string and dangling it in front of her as Iris jumped up and down, trying to snatch it with her clumsy paws. It was adorable.

“You know, that shelter guy. What’s his name?”

“Grantaire,” Enjolras supplied reluctantly. Combeferre nodded solemnly.

“Yes, him. You should visit him. Maybe say thank you for all the help he gave you,” Combeferre suggested serenely as if he wasn’t aware of the tumultuous emotions bubbling just under Enjolras’ calm facade. But this was Combeferre and he could see through Enjolras even when no one else could. So Enjolras knew that Combeferre was purposely bringing up Grantaire, not out of any malicious intent, but merely to help Enjolras sort through these feelings without being forced to enter a direct conversation. And the thank you really was a good idea. However —

“I don’t have time to stop by the shelter and idly chat. Maybe I’ll send a note with Jehan.” With that settled, Enjolras turned back to his books.

“You know, Enjolras, you’re good at a lot of things. Unfortunately, that list does not include thank you notes. I normally have to send one from both of us for anything. Besides, a break might be good for you. You’ve been at that for days. At this point you either know the material or you don’t.” Combeferre’s logic was, as always, unparalleled with reason. However, seeing Grantaire would bring anything but order into Enjolras’ life, and he really couldn’t afford the addition of chaos.

“I’ll take a break when we have an Amis meeting,” returned Enjolras with a level of finality in his tone.

“That’s not a break,” Combeferre countered. “Going outside, walking around, and talking about things besides work and the club is a break.”

“Then I’ll go for a walk!” snapped Enjolras. He jumped up from his seat, nearly startling Iris, and grabbed a jacket. “I’ll be back!” He was half a mile from campus before he realized he didn’t know where he was going. He didn’t have any location in mind. He looked around for inspiration. The brightly painted shutters of the shelter caught his eye, and the student groaned. Even his subconscious was working against him now. Still, since there was no help for it, he resigned himself to entering the place.

The rickety doorknob turned easily under his grasp and he slipped inside. It would be a quick visit. He would thank Grantaire and then get out. Then his conscious would be appeased, as would Combeferre, and he could get on with things and forget all about this place.

“Enjolras!” The cheery greeting caught Enjolras unawares and he snapped his head over to the desk. Jehan was sitting at the greeter’s spot, brandishing a bright sharpie. A few marked papers sat on the desk in a cleared spot. The place was just as messy as Enjolras remembered it, although a few more flowers decorated the walls than last time.

“Hi Jehan,” Enjolras greeted his friend. Jehan Prouvaire, despite giving him a kitten he didn’t ask for or perhaps because of that, was one of Enjolras’ favorite people. He appreciated the serene way in which Jehan did not give a fuck of anyone’s opinion on him, and how true Jehan stayed to his passions. Plus, it was always wonderful to watch Jehan break someone’s gender stereotypes or even assumptions about the willowy, flowery student. Enjolras himself would not want to take Jehan up in a fight. And while Enjolras was certainly his own version of femme, no one could pull off florals and clashing patterns quite like Jehan Prouvaire.

“What’s up?” Jehan twirled the marker happily as he spoke to Enjolras. Enjolras ran a hand through his long blond hair. It was tied up in a loose ponytail today, and the strands easily got caught in his fingers.

“I, uh, I wanted to see, um, Grantaire? Just to - just to thank him for his help with Iris. Is he here?” Enjolras was certainly not blushing as he spoke. Because if he were blushing, that would be ridiculous. After all, he had only met Grantaire once and knew next to nothing about the guy except that he was a flirt, had birds living in his hair, and a strange habit of naming the animals after classic historical figures or mythology characters. And that was not enough to develop a crush on. So Enjolras did not feel anything exceptional for Grantaire. He was merely doing his duty as a contributing citizen.

“He’s in the cat room.” Jehan supplied the information easily, respecting the red on Enjolras’ cheeks that matched the red zip up he had thrown on when leaving his apartment. Enjolras thanked him and then paused.

“Uh, which room is the cat room?”

“The door with the cats painted on it,” said Jehan slowly, as if it were obvious. And it rather was, but Enjolras was feeling very flustered, thank you very much, and wasn’t thinking as logically as normal. Quickly he entered the cat room, hoping to escape from Jehan’s kind but amused expression. He felt very transparent.

Inside the room, Enjolras stuttered to a halt. The place was crawling with about nine or ten cats, including the mangey Bastet, and they were almost all crowded around Grantaire who, Enjolras noticed with a suddenly dry throat, was cradling a beat up guitar and strumming gently. He played a vaguely familiar song to the felines, and Enjolras was pleased to note that Grantaire possessed a beautiful, smooth tenor. The cats seemed to like the singing as much as Enjolras did, as they crowded around Grantaire, purring and appearing to actually listen. Only Bast remained separate from the group, as if he were silently judging the other cats.

Enjolras could have stayed there all day, listening to Grantaire’s quiet music, and he would have, except his observation was interrupted by a loud caw as Michelangelo flew down from a bar and right towards Enjolras who panicked and threw his arms up over his face. Just as he was certain he was about to feel the sharp claws sink into his flesh, there was a sharp whistle, and he heard the sound of wings flapping away. Cautiously, he emerged. Michelangelo had retreated to Grantaire’s shoulder and was cowering under Grantaire’s stern glare. The cats had scattered at the disruption.

“Not cool, Michelangelo, not cool at all. Apollo here is a friend. Now behave or you’ll take a timeout in your cage, and you know none of us want that.” Michelangelo gave a hoarse croak that appeared to satisfy Grantaire. Then the employee turned to Enjolras, an apologetic look on his face.

“I’m so sorry about that. I don’t know what came over him. He’s normally very friendly.” There was a frown towards the bird. “Anyway, what’s up? How’s Iris?” Enjolras seized the question with relief. That was a safe topic. Without it, he might do something stupid, like confess how much he enjoyed Grantaire’s soft singing or worse yet admit that he hadn’t managed to stop thinking about him for days.

“She’s good! Yeah, she’s great. Um, thanks to you actually. That’s why I’m here. I wanted to thank you for all your help.” At Enjolras’ words, Grantaire’s face broke into the largest smile Enjolras had seen yet, showing off a set of slightly crooked teeth.

“It was no trouble at all. It’s my job,” beamed Grantaire. He rose from the floor, shedding cats as he went, although Bastet took the opportunity to weave through the meowing animals and take his place at Grantaire’s side, rubbing against his leg.

“Still, I really appreciated it. I had no clue what I was doing, and I think Iris is really happy.”

“Good! You should bring her by sometime! We all miss her dearly, but I’m glad she has a home.” Grantaire approached Enjolras as he spoke. Enjolras cast wildly around for something to say.

“So I suppose you’re going to keep calling me Apollo?” Grantaire shrugged.

“Your name is really hard. You could call me R, if you fancied.”

“Unlike you, I can handle large words.”

“Is that so?” Grantaire was much closer now, a teasing smirk covering his expressive, cheerful face. There was pause as Grantaire’s bright eyes flickered over Enjolras’ face and he sucked in a breath as if making a decision, releasing it with a whispered “Oh what the hell. Valar morghulis, right?”

“What?” asked Enjolras. “What’s that mean?”

“All men must die. What, you’ve never seen Game of Thrones?” Enjolras shook his head. He found Grantaire hard to follow and it didn’t help that he had grown distracted when Grantaire spoke by his lips and the way they pulled and stretched into so many expressions and words with ease. He had very appealing lips. Enjolras would rather like to kiss them, and that urge surprised him, as it was not one he commonly felt.

“That’s a tragedy! Well, not a real tragedy! A real tragedy is a massacre or war or famine. But a small scale tragedy. You should watch it. I know almost nothing about you except that you are insanely good looking and lead the club Jehan talks about nonstop, but I think you would like it. Wait. Did I just say that first part aloud? I did, didn’t I? Well that’s embarrassing. At least it’s true. Anyway, you should come over and watch Game of Throne. Perhaps tonight. And bring Iris. It’s her favorite show. What do you think?” Grantaire said all this in one giant breath, the words tripping over each other in their haste to escape. Enjolras desperately wanted to say yes. But -

“I can’t. That club that Jehan talks about? We have a meeting tonight and I have to lead it.” He carefully swallowed his disappointment. However, Grantaire made no such effort to disguise his own emotions, his face falling so obviously it was almost comical. Enjolras hesitated for a second and then thought of a solution.

“You could come,” he said in a rush of his own. “I mean, it might seem boring, but you’re welcome to attend anyway.”

“I’m not exactly a student,” mentioned Grantaire, although his face had lit up at Enjolras’ invitation. “And I don’t think you’ll like my political views, based off of what Jehan talks about.”

“We’re not affiliated with the school. They consider us too radical. And why? What are your political views?” This was dangerous territory, because these sort of things were very important to Enjolras. Despite currently really liking Grantaire, he knew there was a chance that these views would spoil everything building in between them. If Grantaire was a reactionary — well, that didn’t bear thinking of.

“Why don’t we save that for the third meeting, hm?” Grantaire said slyly, reaching down to pick of Bastet and hug him close to his chest.

“So you’ll come?” Enjolras firmly ignored the swooping sensation in his chest at the prospect of spending more time with Grantaire.

“I might stop by,” he agreed. Bast’s tongue flicked out and pulled harshly on Grantaire’s fingers, licking them happily. Enjolras felt it was time to leave, although for the life of him, he didn’t want to.

“We meet at the Cafe Musain. Please come.” Grantaire held Enjolras’ eyes for a moment and then nodded, a smile present on his face once more.

 **“** Okay **.”**


	3. In which it is decided that certain levels of adorableness should be illegal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That night Enjolras felt more nervous than he would care to admit. He and Iris had a quiet dinner, and then Enjolras made his way over to the Musain. As per usual, he was the first to arrive. The extra time was spent reorganizing his notes. About five minutes after the official meeting time, the members of Les Amis de l’ABC started entering the cafe in groups of two or three. They were alway late, but Enjolras found over the years to accept the tardiness, even expect it. Finally Enjolras called the meeting to order. Grantaire had still not shown up, and Enjolras experienced the first stabs of disappointment. Nevertheless, he had a job to do and a position to maintain, so he ignored them and concentrated on going over the agenda for the next several weeks.

That night Enjolras felt more nervous than he would care to admit. He and Iris had a quiet dinner, and then Enjolras made his way over to the Musain. As per usual, he was the first to arrive. The extra time was spent reorganizing his notes. About five minutes after the official meeting time, the members of Les Amis de l’ABC started entering the cafe in groups of two or three. They were alway late, but Enjolras found over the years to accept the tardiness, even expect it. Finally Enjolras called the meeting to order. Grantaire had still not shown up, and Enjolras experienced the first stabs of disappointment. Nevertheless, he had a job to do and a position to maintain, so he ignored them and concentrated on going over the agenda for the next several weeks.

However, several minutes into the brunt of Enjolras’ speech, the cafe door jangled open and a dark haired man slipped inside, dripping from the rain outside. Enjolras faltered mid-sentence, so pleased was he to recognize Grantaire. The man may be drenched, but he had made it. With renewed vigor, Enjolras leapt back into his speech. All the while he watched Grantaire out of the corner of his eye.

The first thing he noticed was the absence of any animals, even Michelangelo. Instead a soaked red cap covered Grantaire’s curls. Grantaire took a quiet seat in the back without attracting attention and gave all of his attention to Enjolras. A surprised and pleased smile crossed his face when he noticed Enjolras watching him as well. Embarrassed to be caught staring, Enjolras quickly looked away.

The next time he glanced over, the meeting had progressed a little bit more. They were working out strategies to convince the school to give better benefits to its minimum wage employees. When Enjolras gazed over at Grantaire, he was momentarily put off by the three yellow balls of fluff nuzzling at Grantaire’s fingers. He hadn’t seen those before. Squinting, he tried to make out what the yellow tufts were. Then he caught sight of a webbed foot. Ducklings. Grantaire had three ducklings on his table. Where in the world did a person even get ducklings? Enjolras was seized with the thought that so much adorableness concentrated in one space should be illegal. Grantaire was still carefully listening but one square, calloused finger caressed a duckling’s fuzzy head with a gentleness at odds with his rough appearance.

Enjolras’ astonished and slightly fond stare had attracted the attention of several Amis as it was unlike him to show any signs of distraction, and they all looked over to where Grantaire sat peacefully listening and absorbing the club’s atmosphere. Courfeyrac let out an unholy screech.

"Ducks!! Those are baby ducks!! Man, I don’t know who you are but can I pet your ducks?" Grantaire smiled slow and lazy at the sudden attention. One of the ducklings tottered a few steps before falling into Grantaire’s outstretched hand and everyone awww’d collectively.

"This is Grantaire," Enjolras said to introduce him. "He runs the shelter Jehan volunteers at and was the one who provided me with Iris." By now the entire group had met and fallen in love with Iris. There was a flurry as Les Amis rushed to introduce themselves.

"Where are the ducklings from, Grantaire?" Jehan asked when the commotion had died down somewhat. "We didn’t have any ducks earlier today." Grantaire dipped his pinky finger into a cup of water by his side and let the babies suck on he droplets.

"On my way here I passed someone trying to drown these little guys. So I asked if I could take them since I’ve got the shelter and when the guy said no I punched him and then he said yes," responded Grantaire as if it were a simple thing.

"I like you," beamed Bahorel, one of their more rambunctious members. She was constantly getting into fights and brawls. The Musain was one of the few places she wasn’t yet barred from, and that was only through the influence of the Amis.

"You punched him?" asked Joly incredulously. He was the least violent of the lot, which was perhaps why he had chosen to go into medical school. Healing appealed far more to him. It also might have something to do with the way he diagnosed himself ceaselessly with various illnesses, some of which were long extinct.

"Yeah. He was going to drown them otherwise. They’re just babies," shrugged Grantaire. A thought occurred to Enjolras.  

"So what did you name them?" Grantaire beamed at the question, his whole face lighting up.

“Huey, Dewey, and Louie,” he answered promptly. Enjolras paused, thinking of the other names Grantaire used for his animals. These didn’t quite fit. Then asked, “Really?” Grantaire laughed.

“Nah, I’m just fucking with you. No, we have Clotho, Lachesis, and Atropos.”

“The three fates,” murmured Combeferre who had a secret love affair with Greek mythology. Grantaire winked at the group.

“Exactly.”

“They look a little too adorable to be Fates,” responded Bossuet uncertainly. He rubbed his bald head as if that would provide the answers. Grantaire ignored the comment, picking up one of the ducklings as it slowly started nodding off and rubbing its head until it’s eyes slowly shut and it really fell asleep. Jehan cooed at one of the others as it tried to waddle around the table. Enjolras had the distinct feeling that he should call the meeting to order, but the babies were so cute and Grantaire was exceedingly distracting. This was exactly why he shouldn’t be pursuing anything with Grantaire. He could afford the distractions that the man would undoubtedly bring.

So it was with great effort and many complaints that Enjolras pulled them back on schedule. Grantaire mouthed a quick “sorry” from across the cafe, and any reservations concerning unnecessary distractions Enjolras had been harboring quickly fell away once more. Thankfully he kept the ducklings quiet and content but present throughout the whole meeting. Finally it was over. Now, once the business side of things finished, all the Amis normally hung around the Musain for at least another hour, chatting and generally being social with one another.

This time, however, everyone seemed to be acting under a hive mind and bombarded Grantaire with questions the minute they could, Eponine leading the way. Grantaire, to his credit, answered them all with a slightly amused air.

“So you work at the shelter?”

“Yes.”

“How old are you?”

“Almost twenty-four.”

“Did you go to college?”

“For about a year.”

“Why didn’t you finish?”

“Didn’t want to.”

“What did you study?”

“Major in art, minor in classics and philosophy.”

“And you really punched a guy just because he wouldn’t give up his ducks?”

“Uh, he was going to drown them. I think a little punching is warranted.”

“What are your intentions towards our —”

“Okay!” interrupted Enjolras loudly, knowing where the last question was going. “I think that’s enough.” He was faced with a crew of identical grins from the Amis as they took in his flustered state. It was really a good thing he loved his friends. As it was he turned bright red. Grantaire laughed, and Enjolras tried not to turn redder at the sound. He loved Grantaire’s laugh - it was so unreserved and unabashedly happy. He was so free with smiles as well. It was a beautiful thing to reside in a person.

“Well, this has been fun. But I need to get these chicks settled into their new home. Pleasure meeting you all,” Grantaire said with a nod and a grin.

“I’ll walk you back,” said Enjolras immediately, standing with him. He wanted to see what Grantaire had thought of Les Amis and also this was a good opportunity to spend more time with him. His friends’ grins widened comically. Luckily they knew him well enough to not give more of a reaction than that. Plus, this was the first time Enjolras had ever expressed interest in a person. They were impressed and intrigued. After all, Enjolras wouldn’t invite just anyone to Les Amis de l’ABC.

“Okay,” Grantaire agreed easily. He slipped the sleeping ducklings into one of the huge pockets in his overlarge coat. Enjolras had noticed that all of Grantaire’s clothes were at least two sizes too big. They bagged on his figure.

Outside the downpour had drizzled down to a fine mist, and the cool rain was a welcomed relief from the stuffy heat of the cafe. They walked at a leisurely pace in relative silence for a while. It was surprisingly comfortable. Once they were a ways from the cafe, Enjolras ventured a question.

“So, what did you think?”

“Of the meeting?” Grantaire gave him a sidelong glance. One hand was stuck down the pocket where the ducklings resided, constantly keeping in tune with the baby ducks. “It was very interesting and impassioned. You’ve got a great bunch of kids behind you. I was impressed with everyone’s dedication and resolve to get things done. I also think it was definitely a good idea that I kept my opinions quiet.” This statement intrigued Enjolras.

“Why, what are they?” he asked curiously.

“They are that I care nothing for your causes. Politics are, for me, neither here nor there. I find them useless and discouraging. Human nature is a dismal thing. It will not be changed by a few bright-eyed students.” Enjolras bristled unintentionally. But Grantaire had just directly refuted everything Enjolras believed in most.

“That is the most cynical outlook I’ve ever encountered. That’s the sort of perspective that stops progress. In order to actively participate in the world you live in, you need to be informed in politics. They matter because they directly influence your life - from taxes to your limitations to your freedoms as a citizen to whether or not you’re even considered a citizen and what that means for your life. Perhaps the system is exceedingly flawed, but ignoring it altogether won’t make anything better!” burst out Enjolras passionately. He couldn’t help but feel disappointed that Grantaire had such opposite beliefs in this area. They had been getting along so well too!

“Cynicism suits me. I’ve had no cause to believe in anything as noble as you preach,” shrugged Grantaire. “No, I’ve got my shelter and my animals, and that’s enough for me. At this point, asking for more would just be greedy.”

“So you’ll just let the system be even though it oppresses and works against hundreds of people everyday?”

“You act like I’m the devil himself for bowing out of this stuff. But tell me this, do you really think you can have any true impact on this? Some marginalized group will always be oppressed. Look to history for examples. It doesn’t make it right, but it is the truth of this world. Humans are inherently flawed with selfish intentions. We’ll take what’s best for us and screw everyone who gets in our way. There’s no use in fighting against that. It’s an endless battle you can’t win.” Grantaire grew as agitated as Enjolras as he talked, and Enjolras found himself wondering what had made such a pessimist out of this man.

“There is so much good in the world around. How can you not see that? People aren’t perfect, that much is true. But we’re not essentially bad either. Why do you think there are groups like mine? Because people care about each other.”

“You’re in the minority for that, do you realize? Because for every one person who truly wants to make the world a better place, there’s at least ten other people accepting or offering bribes to further corrupt things.”

“Which is why we’re trying to infiltrate and change the system. Again, it’s flawed, I’ll easily admit that. But it’s better than nothing, and it’s better than what we had in the past, if we want to bring in history. And we’re in a position where we can change that. And I think more people than you think want to bring about changes. I see selfless acts every day.”

“Like what?” demanded Grantaire. Unbeknownst to either of them, they had reached the shelter and walked right past it, too intent in their conversation. The mist continued to surround them. Enjolras grasped a passing thought with enthusiasm. He was determined to convince Grantaire that the world really wasn’t a hopeless place.

“Like you!”

“What?” Grantaire’s voice fell flat.

“Like you saving those ducks! That was entirely selfless. In fact, working in a shelter is selfless. You’re dedicating your life to animals who don’t have a home and providing them one so they don’t starve out here and die.”

“If you only take away one thing from tonight, Enjolras, it should be that I’m a completely selfish person. Got it? Don’t turn me into some saint because I care about living creatures. That’s called being a decent human being,” he snapped.

“So doing good things is being a decent human? That must mean we’re programmed to do good things, making us inherently good as humans,” argued Enjolras. Grantaire opened his mouth to retort and then stopped, looked around, and released a laugh. Taken aback, Enjolras looked around as well, and realized they were far past the shelter.

“Look at that,” chuckled Grantaire, “I didn’t even notice. Shall we turn around?” Enjolras agreed and they made a quick change of directions. Grantaire continued speaking, taking on a different tone.

“I’m sorry for having such contrary opinions. I hope I’m not upsetting you. That was never my intent.” Grantaire gnawed at his lip as he spoke, looking truly sorry.

“You’re not upsetting me,” responded Enjolras truthfully. “I certainly don’t agree with you, but as far as disagreements go, this is not the worst that could happen. Also, you’ve been pretty respectful through all this. Why don’t you come to Les Amis again? Maybe we could convince you.” He had almost enjoyed the discussion. Usually his friends didn’t challenge his ideas or opinions, and the people that did were too ignorant to listen and evolve in their opinions when faced with logic.

“You mean I’m not kicked out?” asked Grantaire with the beginnings of a smile. Enjolras much preferred that expression to the sad one previously dominating his face.

“You’re not kicked out,” answered Enjolras. And the smile bloomed into a full one that Enjolras couldn’t help but return. “Besides, I thought this was a really good conversation. You challenge me, Grantaire, and that’s a good thing. I think we would have more of a problem if you were against the world changing and growing, rather than believing it impossible.” They had reached the shelter. A symphony of barks and meows and bird calls welcomed them as Grantaire unlocked the door and flicked on the lights. He turned and clapped Enjolras on the shoulder, looking directly into his eyes. Grantaire’s blue orbs shone with a strange intensity.

“You know, you really are an amazing person, Enjolras. Don’t let the world change you.” Then he turned and started unpacking ducklings from his pocket and depositing them on the desk. Enjolras reeled for a moment. He had to call Combeferre.

“Thank you, Grantaire. I, um, I have to get going, but this was nice. Really nice. You’ll come to the next meeting?”

“If you so desire it,” said Grantaire.

“I do.” There was a moment as they held eye contact again. Grantaire looked away first this time. Enjolras awkwardly made his goodbyes and slipped back out into the wet night. It was late, but he really needed to talk to Combeferre. Hopefully he and Courfeyrac weren’t up to anything too incriminating.

Enjolras knocked on the door of their apartment, once more longing for the days when Combeferre loved just down the hall. There was a gentle “come in” from Combeferre and Enjolras entered. The two partners were cuddled up on the couch each reading separate books while the tv played softly in the background. It was a very domestic and private scene. Enjolras immediately experienced guilt for intruding. But he needed Combeferre’s counsel.

"What’s going on?" asked Combeferre upon seeing Enjolras hovering in the doorway. He placed a bookmark carefully in his book and set it down.

"Can I talk to you?" Now that Enjolras was no longer near Grantaire his thoughts were spinning wildly out of control, all centered on the man. He had to settle these emotions somehow, hence why he was here. Combeferre was his resident expert on those.  

"Sure. What do you want to talk about?" Courfeyrac watched silently from the sofa. He may be in love with Combeferre and excellent friends with Enjolras but there was something sacred and nonintrusive about the relationship between Combeferre and Enjolras, and anyone in their lives had to respect that.

"Feelings," croaked Enjolras desperately. Combeferre understood at once. After a short, whispered conversation with Courfeyrac, he rose from the couch and grabbed his jacket.

"Let’s go get something to eat and then we will talk, okay?" It was their tradition. Whenever someone was having a crisis, they went to the greasiest diner available and discussed it over breakfast, no matter the hour.

Once they were both settled in a back booth of a twenty four hour diner with chocolate milkshakes, eggs, hashbrowns, and toast, Combeferre fixed Enjolras with the patented Combeferre Look.

"Is this about Grantaire?"

"I think I like him," confessed Enjolras in a shameful rush. There was no use in denying the catastrophe. He waited for Combeferre’s response and was startled when Combeferre placed his hand reassuringly on Enjolras’.

"What’s so wrong with that?" Combeferre asked kindly, almost sadly, as if he knew the answer.

"I can’t like someone. I’ve got - I’ve got things to do! And how can I concentrate on changing the world and weeding out corruption if I’m distracted by a romantic relationship? I can’t, that’s how. And - and, Combeferre, you know me. You know I would give my life up for the people in an instant. I can’t have the attachment a partner would bring. I need to be free of obligations to this world so I can give all I have to offer, even if that means my life." Enjolras meant every word he said, although he could tell they did not please his best friend. Combeferre took a few seconds to answer, choosing instead to first polish his glasses and place them back on his nose.

"Enjolras, I’ve know you how long? Many, many years now. You are my oldest and my dearest friend. But I worry about you. In all the time I’ve had the pleasure of your friendship, I’ve never seen you once show interest in anyone until now. This guy could make you happy. You don’t have to deny yourself this chance of happiness in order to successfully reach your goals. You might even find that having someone support you in that way will push you to greater heights. That’s certainly what I’ve discovered. Your life is not just for ‘the people.’ It is for you to enjoy as well." There was a long silence as Enjolras fixed his eyes on a spot on his napkin and blinked hurriedly.

The truth of the matter was that he had never really considered surviving to old age. He figured causes like his usually needed a martyr of some sort. And he would rather it be him over any of his friends. Besides, perhaps dying was where he could do the most good and make the largest impact. These weren’t exactly healthy thoughts, but they persisted through the years. But with Grantaire, he could see something that resembled a future, and that scared him more than any chance of death did.

What would it be like to grow old? Would he lose his fire to fight for what he knew was right? Would he grow to accept the world as it was or worse yet protect the status quo? He couldn’t imagine it. And what if he started losing his mind? He had always prided himself most on his brain and to lose that meant losing a part of himself. Was that the future?

And yet with Grantaire, he could see things being different. He may have only known the guy for a few weeks and only met him three times, but Grantaire was sharp. He had given back as good as he had when Enjolras argued with him earlier. And he had the sort of kindness that Enjolras looked for in his friends. Besides, Enjolras couldn’t deny that he was inextricably drawn towards the man, as if he completed the serious student in some way. If Enjolras didn’t know better, he would consider it the tentative beginnings of love, but surely those things took time to build?

“You’re overthinking things again,” commented Combeferre lightly, his fork scraping across his plate as he loaded it with potatoes and eggs.

“I like Grantaire,” Enjolras said again. Combeferre nodded, knowing more was to come. “What do people do when they like someone? How do you know if the person likes you back?”

“Well, I’m not an expert, we all know that’s more Courf’s area, but I think you can be pretty confident that Grantaire likes you. Jehan said he’s been trying to drag the guy along to ABC meetings for ages, and he was always met with some excuse or another. But you ask him once and he shows up. That certainly says something. As for what to do, I find it works best to spend time with the person. It doesn’t even have to be a date. Just get to know Grantaire. See where the feelings go from there. And if he makes you happy, Enjolras, let him stay in your life. The group will survive. The cause will survive. You will survive. In more ways than one. And you’ll be better for having someone in your life whose primary connection to you isn’t Les Amis, yes?”

“Perhaps,” admitted Enjolras reluctantly. He liked to think himself completely devoted, and he was, but sometimes his devotion bordered on a scarily unhealthy devotion, and he had worried his friends more than once with his one-minded focus. “But how do you ask someone on a date? So that they know it’s a date? Because Grantaire asked me to watch Game of Thrones with him earlier today and I couldn’t because I had Les Amis, which was why I invited him to come, but was that a date, do you think?”

“Just ask him,” advised Combeferre. “What’s the harm in that?”

“I don’t fancy making a fool of myself,” Enjolras muttered. He may ooze confidence, but rejection was not something he took well. Plus relationship were not his strongest suit. He was lucky to find someone as patient and understanding as Combeferre for a best friend. Otherwise he would be very lonely indeed. And Grantaire had seen so at ease in every situation he was thrown into, from Enjolras’ hostility the first day to the interrogation of the Amis at the Musain. He handled everything with grace and poise, and Enjolras didn’t want to embarrass himself.

“You won’t. And if you do, so what? What have you got to lose?” Combeferre was nothing if not persistent, and Enjolras knew it. He prided himself on recognizing the few battles hecouldn’t win and accepting the fact with maturity. This was one of them.

“Okay, but if he ends up laughing at me, I’m blaming you. Got it?”

“Got it,” grinned Combeferre. The rest of their late night breakfast consisted of happier topics and the joyful task of catching up with the other. Not for the first time that night, Enjolras experienced a rush of thankfulness for his best friend. He would be lost without his guide.


	4. In which Enjolras accidentally spends almost an entire day having fun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So, Grantaire, I was, uh, wondering if you would like to hang out one day? We could watch Game of Thrones or go to a movie? Like a date? Unless you don’t want it to be a date, uh,” Enjolras cleared his throat. “No, wait, I’m going to start over. Hey, Grantaire, how are you? So I really enjoyed talking to you the other day. How would you feel about debating humanity with me again? No, that doesn't even remotely sound like I’m asking him out on a date. Um.” Enjolras glared at his reflection in the mirror. Why was this so hard? He caught sight of Iris sitting behind him, watching his reflection curiously with a tilted head. He turned around to face his kitten. She immediately walked over and butted her head under his hand, searching for affection which he happily gave her.

“So, Grantaire, I was, uh, wondering if you would like to hang out one day? We could watch Game of Thrones or go to a movie? Like a date? Unless you don’t want it to be a date, uh,” Enjolras cleared his throat. “No, wait, I’m going to start over. Hey, Grantaire, how are you? So I really enjoyed talking to you the other day. How would you feel about debating humanity with me again? No, that doesn’t even remotely sound like I’m asking him out on a date. Um.” Enjolras glared at his reflection in the mirror. Why was this so hard? He caught sight of Iris sitting behind him, watching his reflection curiously with a tilted head. He turned around to face his kitten. She immediately walked over and butted her head under his hand, searching for affection which he happily gave her.

“This is more complicated than Combeferre let on, Iris. How am I going to ask Grantaire on a date if I can’t even figure out what I want to say? I’m supposed to be the eloquent, charismatic one. This is all wrong. What if he doesn’t actually like me and Combeferre is mistaken? Then what? Then I’ve lost a potential friend and a recruit to our cause.” Iris purred as he patted her soft fur and scratched behind her ears. She was growing in spades these days. Soon she would not longer be a kitten, but a cat instead. He hoped that day didn’t come too soon. He loved her just as she was, although he would still adore her when she grew. He just wanted her to grow slowly so he could treasure her childhood. How had he ever lived without his furry companion?

“Meow,” she responded. Enjolras nodded.

“You’re right. I’m crazy. I’m taking this much too seriously. If I can stand in front of a hundred people with policemen watching in the background to inspire social change, I can ask one pet shelter employee on a date. I just need to collect myself and do it.” Iris meowed again before moving to lick his hand. Scooping the small cat up into the crook of his elbow, Enjolras turned back to the mirror. Then he smiled down at Iris.

“You know, Iris, I’ve just had the best idea.”

An hour later, Enjolras was at the shelter, Iris held securely in his arms. Luckily she was content to stay there. As far as cats went, she was remarkably well-behaved, at least for Enjolras and usually Combeferre. Everyone else she would refuse to give the time of day to if they tried to convince her to do something she didn’t want to. And she certainly hadn’t wanted to venture outside, judging by the flatness of her ears. But she relaxed when they entered the shelter, clearly recognizing familiar surroundings.

Enjolras found Grantaire cleaning the kennel of a recently adopted dog with a train of animals behind him. Michelangelo was settled once more in his hair, and Bast too could be found nearby. Grantaire looked up delightedly at Enjolras’ entrance. The beam only increased when he noticed Iris.

“Baby girl!” he cooed, dropping the cleaning solution and reaching out his hands. Enjolras willingly passed his cat over. Iris perked up immediately in a way she typically only did for Enjolras and started purring. Grantaire scratched her neck. “Hey sweetie pie, how are you? We’ve missed you around here, haven’t we? And my, how you’ve grown. You’re going to be as big as Bast soon, won’t you? You’ll like that.” Then he turned his attention to Enjolras.

“Hi, it’s great to see you. Thanks for bringing Iris by. She looks great. So healthy and happy. And you say you’ve never had a pet before.”

“She’s my first, I swear. But she’s perfect. I owe Jehan more than I care to admit for her.”

“Nah, if Jehan’s anything like I think he is, your happiness is the best thank you he could ask for. But seriously, she’s so big! When did that happen?” As they discussed Iris, Enjolras congratulated himself on the excellent idea of using her as an excuse to visit Grantaire. The older man, true to his word, had attended the last two ABC meetings, but Enjolras hadn’t had the chance to spend any one-on-one time with him, despite Combeferre’s whispered encouragements.

“Hey!” said Grantaire suddenly. “Wait, come this way. I have something for Iris and you.” Bemused, Enjolras followed the man holding his cat out of the dog room and through a door decorated with flowers with a big “Employees Only” sign on it. Inside was a mess. Enjolras saw dilapidated couch, several crumbling cardboard boxes, a few pillows and blankets, a beat up laptop, a stack of canvases facing the wall, open paint jars, a pile of clothes shoved off to the side, and a bookcase filled with classics, Latin and Greek texts, and books about animals. It looked almost as if Grantaire was living in the breakroom. The man in question navigated the flood of things easily, all the while holding a contently purring Iris. The trail of animals that followed Grantaire seemingly everywhere hung around the door, watching their human hop about, all except Michelangelo, who flew right in. Enjolras flinched slightly when he soared by. That bird had it out for him.

“Here!” proclaimed Grantaire joyfully, retrieving Enjolras’ attention. He held out a small plastic bag with a pale purple piece of cold metal. Enjolras examined it. It was a tag for Iris’ collar. It had her name, Enjolras’ name, and his number to call in case she ever got lost. Enjolras had been meaning to pick one up for her, but between classes and l’ABC, he had been too busy to order one.

“This is perfect!” he exclaimed, favoring Grantaire with one of his larger smiles. He wasted no time in reaching over to his cat still happily enveloped by Grantaire’s arms and twisted the tag onto her collar. She licked his hand as he attached the tag. “Thank you! But how did you know my number?”

“It’s on the forms Jehan filled out when he adopted her for you. I’m glad you like it.”

“Like it? Grantaire, this is perfect!” He looked up from his cat to find that Grantaire’s face was very close. He hadn’t really been thinking, but now they were practically standing nose-to-nose. Swallowing slowly, Enjolras held Grantaire’s fiercely blue eyes. They were extremely close. Then Iris leapt out of Grantaire’s arms, sending them both tumbling back and breaking whatever had been brewing between them. Nervous laughter bubbled up as Iris leapt over to whatever had caught her attention.

“Yeah, uh, anyway, don’t worry about it,” said Grantaire, running a hand through his hair until Michelangelo nipped lightly at his fingers, and he stopped. Iris had run after the three ducklings, who had made a sort of nest from a few paint-stained shirts that Enjolras assumed belonged to Grantaire. Apparently they lived in the break room. Expecting that he would need to move Iris away from the babies, Enjolras moved forward, only to be held back by Grantaire. The man lifted a finger to his lips to keep Enjolras silent and pointed towards the interacting animals.

Iris leaned forward, her pink nose tentatively twitching as she sniffed the squeaking balls of fur. The ducklings, surprisingly, were more excited than anything else, and tried to stand to greet her, only to slip back into the folds of cloth. Slowly, Iris circled the nest, before jumping into the collection of shirts, causing the ducklings to rush at her. Then she curled up around the babies and started licking one. Enjolras watched with an open mouth.

“Don’t cats eat ducks usually?”

“Not always,” whispered Grantaire as Iris continued bathing the baby ducks. Enjolras surreptitiously whipped out his phone and snapped a quick picture. He didn’t normally consider himself the sentimental type, but this was too adorable to resist. Besides, his friends would be quite angry if he didn’t capture the moment for them.

“Looks like she’s settling in for a long time,” Enjolras commented, already thinking of all the work waiting for him at his apartment. But he couldn’t tear her away from her newfound friends.

“If you have stuff you need to do, you can leave her here. I’ll watch Iris, I don’t mind. I’m here anyway,” Grantaire offered without a second thought. Enjolras considered that option for a moment and came to a startling decision. He wanted to stay here, with Iris and the ducklings and Grantaire.

“Actually,” said Enjolras slowly. He desperately hoped this request came out less weird than it sounded in his head, “if you don’t mind, I could just bring some of my work here? That way you don’t have any extra work, and I could still be productive.” There was a pause as a smile grew on Grantaire’s face.

“Okay. Yeah, okay, that’d be great. You should do that. Um, yeah, you can just hang out in here or whatever works. No pressure either way.”

And that’s how Enjolras ended up spending the rest of the day slugging through homework and planning for Les Amis in the break room of the local shelter. Grantaire was in once or twice, but mostly Enjolras heard him moving about through other rooms or greeting some of the people that volunteered to walk dogs or helping one or two families set up an adoption. The background noise of animals and people and Grantaire’s soft humming was soothing, and Enjolras managed to get even more done than he expected.

Around five o’clock, Grantaire reentered the break room after closing up shop. He took a good look at Enjolras, surrounded by books and papers, his wavy hair falling out of it’s pony tail, and the ink stains covering his fingers, and made a decision.

“Have you eaten?”

“Hm?” asked Enjolras, glancing up from a French translation he was working on. He scrubbed his face his with hand in an effort to ward of the exhaustion starting to set in.

“Have you eaten?” repeated Grantaire patiently, cheerfully. At that moment Enjolras’ stomach decided to release a huge grumble. The student blushed as Grantaire laughed. “I’ll take that as a no. Come on, pack up the books, we’re grabbing food.”

“We are?” Enjorlas parroted as he stood and stretched. He was pleased with his progress for the day. Maybe Grantaire wasn’t the distraction he had made the man out to be. Maybe he made things better.

“Yup.” Grantaire bounced on his heels as Enjolras neatened his things. Iris was still lounging with the ducklings, the four animals curled up in a collection of shirt and sleeping. As soon as Enjolras had his shoes on, Grantaire grabbed his hand and off they went.

Enjolras tried not to overanalyze the calloused hand loosely entwined with his as he followed Grantaire through the streets. After all, he knew from observing the man through several meetings that Grantaire was an exceedingly tactile person. He held hands with everyone, sat with Jehan (or Cosette, whom he got along famously with) on his lap, and hugged complete strangers. He and Bahorel traded punches, and Grantaire now carried hand sanitizer so Joly didn’t have to worry about germs when they hugged. For all Enjolras knew, their current hand-holding was just as friendly and platonic as all of Grantaire’s other touches. However, he couldn’t help but hope that it meant more.

Grantaire led them to a small, ramshackle restaurant that was warmly lit, bursting at the seams with chatting customers, fantastic smells, and cheerfully rushing waitstaff. The people working there greeted Grantaire by name, and they were seated almost immediately. Enjolras scanned the menu with interest.

“I hope you don’t mind weird vegetarian food,” inserted Grantaire before Enjolras had a chance to comment. “I don’t exactly eat meat. Can’t really. Not when I work so close to my animals.” Enjolras, who had been a vegetarian for years to boycott and protest the industry and its harsh treatment of animals and employees, wasn’t bothered in the least. He was actually rather pleased. He used that as an opportunity to launch into his explanation about the problematic practices within the meat industry. It wasn’t until they were halfway through their meal that Enjolras realized he was dominating the conversation. He apologized swiftly.

“Why are you sorry? I love hearing you talk. Keep going if you want!” The sincerity in Grantaire’s voice made Enjolras simply want to melt right there in his chair. Instead, he rerouted the conversation.

“I’d like to hear a little about you. You said you went to college, right?”

“And only for a year. It was boring, I forgot to go to classes, and I didn’t like any of the people. I’m more of an animal person than a people person.”

“I couldn’t tell,” smirked Enjolras. Grantaire laughed.

“Right? Anyway, I was basically failing everything and my parents told me I could either get my act together or I could make my own way, and that’s what I decided. Me and Michelangelo wandered the streets for a while, which is when we found Bast. Eventually I ended up here. The people hiring took one look at me with a bird sleeping in my hair and a cat curled around my shoulders and accepted me on the spot. And I’ve been here ever since.” Enjolras listened intently. Grantaire was easy to listen to; his voice was pure and he had enough expression for three people. But it was sad to hear this story. Grantaire talked little of himself, preferring to ask questions of others or tell long, entertaining tales of his animals. Enjolras had been previously unaware of what Grantaire’s life was like.

“Have you talked to your parents since?” Enjolras asked. Grantaire shook his head. A small smile still was present on his face despite the subject. He was the sort of person who rarely stopped smiling no matter the situation. It was just his face.

“Nope, we haven’t exchanged so much as a word. For all I know, they think I’m dead. Mostly I miss my sister, but I never cared much for my parents, especially my father. He wanted me to go into mathematics, which I was awful at, and he never quite recovered from the disappointment.”

“You have a sister?” This was news to Enjolras. Nodding, Grantaire pushed around some of the food on his plate.

“Yeah, she’s like almost ten years younger than me though. She’d be about fourteen or fifteen, I suppose. We got along well, but I had no way to contact her after I left home. She was a good girl. I’m sure she’s doing okay. Uh,” Grantaire cleared his throat suddenly. “Sorry, this wasn’t supposed to be a downer.” He managed a fuller grin. “Anyway, what made you get into all this activism stuff?” Enjolras recognized the intentional change of subject and willingly accepted it.

“I can’t remember an exact age. But I was always really aware of all the ways I was privileged that a lot of people weren’t. And it seriously bothered me, even as a kid. I eventually decided that I couldn’t just sit around and accept what I had when so many other people didn’t even have a hope of having the same because of the system’s setup. So I decided I would dedicate my life to creating a better, more equal world.” Enjolras felt strangely self-conscious as he spoke. No one had ever asked him that question before. It was just an accepted fact. The sky is blue, grass is green, and Enjolras wants overthrow the current political regime and implement a new system.

It wasn’t a particularly shocking or emotional story, and sometimes Enjolras felt bad about that. But he always tried to as aware as he could about the privileges he had enjoyed and listen to someone if they found something problematic in what he said. Grantaire seemed happy to hear about Enjolras, however, and asked several more questions. Before he knew it, the evening had passed, and they were walking back to the shelter.

“This was really nice,” Enjolras commented. Grantaire was an incredibly easy person to spend time with. He made almost no demands, and was as content with silence as he was conversation. It would be difficult returning to the empty apartment after this.

“I thought so too,” returned Grantaire with a smile. His hands were shoved in his pockets and he walked at a leisurely pace. Enjolras spared a moment to mourn the fact that they weren’t holding hands like he wanted to. Grantaire was exceptionally beautiful to Enjolras in the soft light of the streetlamps. He never wanted to reach the shelter, because then the night would be over, and this was one of the best evenings he had had in a long time.

But alas, they reached the shelter eventually. After unlocking the door, Enjolras watched as Grantaire checked on all of the animals. Then they walked into the break room where Iris woke up. Stretching, she rose from the cocoon of ducks and blankets and jumped over to brush against her human’s legs. Almost sadly, Enjolras picked her up, knowing he had to go.

“You know,” said Grantaire suddenly. “I was going to watch some ‘Game of Thrones’ later. And it is Iris’ favorite show. You could stick around and watch some, if you’d like? I’d even start at the beginning for you?” It seemed as if Grantaire didn’t want Enjolras to leave any more than he did. Enjolras considered the offer. It wasn’t exactly a tough decision.

“Sure,” he agreed readily, trying not to beam like an idiot. At the same time, he wondered if Grantaire ever left the shelter. Some days it felt like he lived there. Enjolras brushed those thoughts away as he settled with Grantaire on the sagging couch, accepted the blanket handed to him, and watched Grantaire pull up the television show on his laptop. Iris leapt onto the couch as well and settled in his lap. Apparently Grantaire wasn’t kidding when he said it was her favorite show, as she stared intently at the screen and hissed at certain characters that Enjolras later discovered were bad guys.

Enjolras learnt fast that Grantaire was not a quiet television watcher. He yelled when angry, cheered on his favorites, and cooed over all of them. He sang the theme song with gusto and happily explained answers to all of Enjolras’ questions. The student wasn’t sure what he enjoyed more - Grantaire’s enthusiasm, or the show itself. Either way, both were wonderful and engaging, and they went through four episodes before Enjorlas had to call it a night.

“Feel free to stop by again,” said Grantaire hopefully as Enjolras hefted up his books and his cat to return home. “I’m always willing to watch Game of Thrones or whatever. You know where to find me.” They were very close again. If Enjolras dipped his head down just a tad, he could kiss Grantaire. It was extremely tempting. He caught himself at the last moment. He didn’t want to spoil things.

“Good night, Grantaire.”

“Night Apollo!” Grantaire teased in return. This time, Enjolras wasn’t angry at the use of the nickname but noticed and appreciated the underlying affection in it. Shaking his head, he waved goodbye and left for his place.

Inside Enjolras’ apartment, it was quiet except for the sound of Iris’s leaps and bounds as she entertained herself with a catnip mouse. And although Enjolras still wished for another human being to be living in the space with him, he was in a much cheerier mood than normal. He had had the most wonderful night, plus an amazingly productive afternoon. For some reason, he just felt so happy with Grantaire. Happy and free - as if all the expectations that people placed on him (of which there were many) just fell away and he could simply be.

“Thanks for helping me out today, Iris,” Enjolras told his kitten as she curled up by his feet in bed. She yawned once, pink tongue showing, and tucked her head into her tight ball of fur. Yawning himself, Enjolras reached over to the lamp and turned off the light. He was asleep in no time at all, dreaming of dragon eggs and ducklings and lilac ownership tags and warm, calloused fingers and soft humming and electric blue eyes.


	5. In which Enjolras is owned by his cat and gets a boyfriend in the process

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “No, we are not going to visit Grantaire today. We’ve been over this. We can’t just start showing up everyday. He’s going to get sick of us, well, me. He’d never get sick of you.” It had been a little over a week since Enjolras’ first extended visit to the shelter, and he had returned every day except for yesterday. He was determined to hold onto that streak until at least tomorrow, nevermind the fact that both he and Iris were miserable and wanted to see Grantaire.

Iris yowled loudly, scratching at the front door. Enjolras ignored her, as she had been alternating between that and glaring at him for the last half hour. Instead he tried to concentrate on the large book opened in front of him. She cried again, leaving thin marks where her nails scraped against the wood. Enjolras finally looked up.

“No, we are not going to visit Grantaire today. We’ve been over this. We can’t just start showing up everyday. He’s going to get sick of us, well, me. He’d never get sick of you.” It had been a little over a week since Enjolras’ first extended visit to the shelter, and he had returned every day except for yesterday. He was determined to hold onto that streak until at least tomorrow, nevermind the fact that both he and Iris were miserable and wanted to see Grantaire.

The days he had visited the shelter employee had been wonderful. Between camping out in the break room to work on l’ABC plans or write papers, watching Game of Thrones, or just casually hanging out with Grantaire, Enjolras felt more peaceful than he imagined was possible. Amazingly he was more productive with Grantaire present, probably because unless it was to interrupt with a request for an eating break, he didn’t attempt to interfere with Enjolras’ studying habits like his other friends. Because he finished more of his work in record time, he had more to dedicate to Les Amis, meaning he was less stressed. And while stress looked good on Enjolras, he practically glowed without it.

However, he believed he should make at least some effort to limit his time with Grantaire. While the man didn’t appear to mind Enjolras constantly stopping by with Iris in tow, how could he not? Enjolras was a strong, strong personality. Even his closest friends couldn’t take too much in large doses. He was exhausting, all that passion and inspiration and dedication crammed into a single body. He didn’t want to impose on Grantaire, not when he was probably annoying the patient animal lover.

Iris stalked over to Enjolras and swatted at his feet. Enjolras shook his head again. “No, Iris, I’m sorry. I know you miss him, but believe me, this is for the best. Okay?” Huffing angrily, Iris finally settled down on Enjolras’ textbook, preventing him from working. He fixed her with a stare that she had no difficulty returning.

“Iris,” he said. She yawned. Enjolras looked at his covered book and made a decision. “Fine, you win,” he grumbled as he stood, “let’s go to R’s.” Recognizing the coat as a sign of an outing, Iris nearly flew off the textbook, running to the door, her little ID tag bouncing happily. That girl really had him wrapped around her paw.

In almost no time at all they were approaching the shelter. Enjolras had barely entered when Iris leapt out of his arms and darted off to find the ducklings, whom she seemed to regard as her own kittens. Then Enjolras went off in search for Grantaire, hoping that he would be glad to see them. The break room door was cracked partially open, alerting Enjolras to his location. The student stopped before entering, however, at the mention of his name.

“But I thought you said Enjolras has been coming here a lot.” Jehan was the speaker, giving Enjolras an extra pause. Why were they discussing Enjolras? Perhaps Grantaire really was irritated by his constant visits. Heart pounding and guilt settling heavily in his stomach, he kept listening.

“He was, but he didn’t come yesterday or today. Maybe I did something wrong. Fuck, I wasn’t being too forward, was I? Maybe I came off as super creepy. Shit,” groaned Grantaire, sounding far more uncertain than Enjolras could remember hearing him. However, his worries confused the activist. He appeared to be stressing about the same thing as Enjolras - overpowering and intruding on the other person’s life too much. “I thought I had made it extremely obvious that I was interested in him, but maybe I made it too obvious and he’s turned off.” Enjolras wanted to rush in and protest that he actually really liked Grantaire and he didn’t want the man thinking these negative things about himself. If he did that, however, he would betray the fact that he was eavesdropping which was something he hadn’t really done before. But this meant that Grantaire liked him, and if that wasn’t the best news he had heard all day, he didn’t know what was. Smiling like a goon, he leaned against the wall, unintentionally catching Jehan’s response.

“Grantaire, I love Enjolras, I really do. But he wouldn’t notice someone’s romantic interest in him unless it was typed on a piece of paper in six thirty-six font right in front of his face, and even then he’s apt to disregard it. You just have to straight up talk to him. Okay?” Jehan had his no-nonsense voice, and there was a smile wrapped in Grantaire’s words as he answered.

“Okay. Okay, I’ll figure it out. We should, uh, we should probably get back to work.” Hearing that, Enjolras sprinted back to the entrance. He didn’t want to get caught. Unfortunately, he was still grinning manically, perhaps because he had no idea how to stop. Grantaire liked him. Grantaire liked him. Grantaire liked him. He could be floating right now, and he wouldn’t even notice because Grantaire liked him! Both Jehan and Grantaire exited the break room and stopped short when they saw Enjolras, who had positioned himself so it looked like he had just walked in.

“Hi,” said Enjolras, trying to act normal.

“Hi,” returned Grantaire cautiously. “Is, uh, is everything okay?” Enjolras’ grin was so blinding and so seemingly random it was almost alarming. Enjolras tried to control his beam.

“Yeah, yeah, no, everything’s great. Hope you don’t mind up stopping over. I think Iris has adopted your ducks as her babies,” Enjolras said hurriedly. As if to prove his words, Iris came prancing back into view, three wee ducks waddling behind her in a line. Bastet brought up the end, nudging the last one lovingly with his scarred nose. Grantaire cooed and knelt down to welcome them all with little pats of love and treats that he procured from his pockets. Michelangelo watched disdainfully from his perch. He seemed to disprove of Bast’s newfound sentimentality. Enjolras shook his head. Grantaire was rubbing off on him. He was attributing too many human characteristics to the animals at the shelter.

“Well, I must get going or I’ll miss my class,” said Jehan as he grabbed a floral blazer off the coat rack. “You two have fun.”

“You should’ve just signed up for all morning classes like I did. That way you’d have the rest of the day free,” commented Enjolras.

“Or just quit school like me,” added Grantaire with a roguish grin. Enjolras groaned good-naturedly at him as Jehan laughed.

“Bye guys.” And then Jehan was off and it was just Enjolras and Grantaire in the shelter. Well, Enjolras and Grantaire and a slew of animals, but for all intents and purposes, Enjolras was only concerned with Grantaire.

“Me and the animals missed you yesterday,” said Grantaire as he pocketed the rest of the treats. A few mice poked their noses up from the out of the upturns of his jean pants, and he dropped a square of cheese to them. Enjolras recognized Athena among them. That was a new place for Grantaire to be holding pets.

“Same here,” promised Enjolras. They smiled at each other. Enjolras very much wanted to admit he had overheard Grantaire’s private conversation, but wasn’t sure how to broach the subject. So he let Grantaire ramble on about the animals and be roped into another Game of Thrones episode. It was harder to keep his mouth shut, knowing what he did. After all, he liked Grantaire, and apparently Grantaire liked him. But Enjolras had no idea how to start relationships and was mostly depending on Grantaire to take the necessary steps. Yet this really was wasted time where they could be kissing or holding hands or simply cuddling on the ancient couch as Grantaire hid his face during the particularly gruesome parts of the television show. And then it was time for Les Amis and Enjolras had still not said anything.

“You want to just leave Iris here so you don’t have to go back to your place?” Grantaire offered as they pulled on shoes and jackets. At the same time, Grantaire also emptied the cuffs of his jeans of mice, carefully placing Athena, Zeus, Hera, Hades, and the rest next to their dinner. When he went to free his hair of Michelangelo, the bird put up a fuss, refusing to leave. Shrugging, Grantaire let the bird keep its perch. Then he turned to Bast.

“Michelangelo is coming with me. That means you’re in charge. Look after the duckies, okay? And make sure no one takes anyone else’s food. I’m counting on you.”

“You know they don’t really understand you,” protested Enjolras, hopping impatiently from toe to toe. They were running a few minutes later than he preferred, but still earlier than the rest of the club would be. Walking with Grantaire guaranteed that they were never as early as Enjolras preferred but not as late as Grantaire tended to be on his own.

“Like you don’t talk to Iris that way,” scoffed Grantaire. He carefully locked the shelter door and hung up the Closed sign. Then they left. Huffing, Enjolras was silent. He couldn’t really argue against that, and Grantaire knew it. He absolutely treated Iris like she could understand him.

“So what’s on the agenda today, oh fearless leader of mine?” continued Grantaire as they strolled towards the Musain. Enjolras rolled his eyes at the nickname Grantaire had adopted along with several other Amis. Unfortunately it had caught on with surprising speed; even Combeferre had referred to him that way once or twice. He was thankful that Grantaire kept “Apollo” more private.

“Why? You gearing up to argue with me again?” Grantaire usually spent meetings in the back of the Musain drinking or playing with whatever feathered or furry friend he brought with him, although occasionally he could be counted on to point out the flaws and problems in Enjolras’ arguments and speeches. Enjolras firmly believed that Grantaire had every right to express those things, but his pessimistic view of humanity never ceased to sadden Enjolras.

“Maybe,” grinned Grantaire, adding an extra swagger to his step, almost unsettling Michelangelo, who gave a loud, reproachful squawk. “Sorry bud.” The bird pulled on a lock of hair in retaliation.

“Well you’ll have to wait and see like the rest of the group, okay?”

“Fine,” whined Grantaire, his tone betrayed by the smile on his face. They walked the rest of the way in companionable silence.

Surprisingly, Grantaire didn’t interrupt the meeting once. Instead he seemed almost distracted, pulling out a few sheets of paper and a thick black sharpie and scribbling in the back where Enjolras couldn’t see. Michelangelo flew around the cafe, making quick friends with Feuilly of all people, who took great pleasure in petting him and feeding him scraps of food. And when the meeting ended he was the first one out the door after stopped by Enjolras’ chair where Combeferre had engaged him in conversation.

“Hey, I’ll see you back at the shelter. I’ve got to get back there real fast.”

“Is everything okay?” Enjolras was concerned. They usually left the Musain together these days.

“Yeah, yeah, I just had an idea. See you in a bit.” And then Grantaire disappeared into the night outside. Enjolras turned back to Combeferre who was watching with an amused expression.

“Sorry. No idea what that was about. Anyway, you were saying?”

Later that night as Enjolras walked back to the shelter, he hoped that nothing was wrong. Grantaire had practically sprinted out of there. Chances are he had thought of something he needed to check on with the animals. He was about as dedicated to his shelter as Enjolras was to smashing injustice. In fact, his dedication confused and frustrated Enjolras, who couldn’t understand why Grantaire couldn’t find the same passion within him to dedicate to Les Amis. If Grantaire could give just one iota of the love he gave his animals to fighting oppression, he could do so much!

The closed sign was still up in front of the shelter but the lights were on so Enjolras entered. The front room was empty of Grantaire, although Bastet was there. The cat stared at Enjolras and he suddenly felt guilty about his earlier comment about animals not being able to understand. Then the cat slinked away into the break room where a warm light shone out. Grantaire must be in there. Before he could enter the room, Grantaire came rushing out with a crowd of mice at his feet, four of the new kittens brought in this morning, one of the dogs, and Michelangelo flying above. Bast followed at a leisurely pace behind them. Enjolras nearly fell over as the entire pack of animals came rushing out and swarmed around him.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Grantaire said with a wide smile on his face. “Waitwaitwait, hold there just one second.” There were a few new stains of sharpie on his hands and one on his cheek which was frankly almost impressive. How does one get marker on their face?

“Okay,” responded Enjolras. He couldn’t help but grin in the face of Grantaire’s unexplained excitement. Obediently he waited through a series of whispered curses and strange bangs for Grantaire to reappear once more. As he waited, he absently patted a few of the mice. They were surprisingly friendly. Finally Grantaire popped back around the door.

“Okay,” he said breathlessly with bits of tape stuck in his hair, “come on.” Grabbing Enjolras’ hand, he pulled the willing student into the break room. There, waddling around the floor and occasionally quacking, were the ducklings. But they each had a piece of paper taped with string to hang around their necks. Well, that explained the sharpie. Enjolras quickly tried to read the message as the ducks moved around the floor..

“Boyfriend - be my - will you - what? Oh!” Unreasonably warm and flustered and pleased, Enjolras snapped around to stare at Grantaire, who was holding Iris. His kitten had also been outfitted with a card that simply at the word “Please?” scrawled on it. Enjolras didn’t even pause. He walked straight over to Grantaire, who released Iris to play with the ball of string she had her eyes on, and pulled the blue-eyed man into an intense kiss that Grantaire easily reciprocated, throwing his arms around Enjolras’ waist and pulling him close even as Enjolras tangled his fingers in surprisingly soft curls.

“I take it that’s a yes then,” breathed Grantaire softly when they finally drew back. His cheeks were flushed and his lips were swollen and Enjolras wanted nothing more than to pull him closer again. And, he realized, if he was dating Grantaire, he could. So he did.

Grantaire’s lips were soft and warm and eager. Enjolras gave a little gasp as Grantaire bit down on Enjolras’ bottom lip and then swiped his tongue across the bite. He parted his mouth in response, yanking Grantaire just a bit closer. Enjolras only released Grantaire’s lips when air became a necessity. For the second time that night, Grantaire was left breathless, spots of color on his cheeks and actual sparkles in his eyes. Enjolras laughed from happiness as he released Grantaire’s hair to curl his fists in the front of man’s ratty t-shirt instead.

“So,” he said.

“So,” answered Grantaire, his arms loosely encircling Enjolras’ waist. There was a loud quack and they both looked down at their feet. Three ducklings stood there, staring at them. This caused them to break out in giddy laughter which ended with with Enjolras resting his forehead on Grantaire’s. Now that he could be so completely close to Grantaire, he never wanted to move away.

“So,” repeated Enjolras. “I guess I have Jehan to thank for this?”

“What? Did you overhear us talking this morning? And you let me suffer all this time? I can’t believe you!” complained Grantaire, although he was still beaming from ear to ear. Enjolras had a feeling he wasn’t actually upset.

“Sorry, but I wasn’t sure how to broach the subject.”

“You know that kissing thing we did just now? That’s how you broach the subject. Just like that.”

“Like this?” And then his lips were back on Grantaire’s and their noses bumped as they found their way to each other and Enjolras, who had never actually kissed someone before today, decided that this was possibly the best thing one could do with another person.

“Oh my god,” Grantaire said when they had separated again. His voice was ragged and hoarse and unbelievably attractive. “Oh my god, I’m going to have to write a will, because at this rate your mouth is going to kill me.”

“In a good way?” asked Enjolras uncertainly. He hoped Grantaire was enjoying this as much as he was.

“In the best way,” reassured Grantaire. “Screw calling you Apollo, I should’ve been calling you after the god of kissing.”

“I don’t think there is a god of kissing,” murmured Enjolras as their mouths gravitated back towards each other. He had brushed up on his mythology and ancient religions after meeting Grantaire. “Sex maybe,” he continued in between kisses, “but not kissing.”

“Then we’ll have to name you the god of kissing. Enjolras, god of kissing and making out and extremely sexy gasps,” stuttered Grantaire as Enjolras kissed and nipped his way up Grantaire’s neck and rough stubble, making some of those referred to gasps of pleasure in the process. Somehow they had ended up on the battered couch with Enjolras straddling Grantaire’s lap and Grantaire’s hands entangled in Enjolras’ now ruined braid.

“I’d rather just be Enjolras, Grantaire’s boyfriend,” responded Enjolras honestly as he tried to keep his voice steady. Grantaire growled low in his throat as they kissed and Enjolras moaned.

“Yes, perfect,” he managed to say.

“We should,” gasp, “probably,” gasp, “slow down a little,” squeaked Enjolras as Grantaire worked on his collar bone with his tongue and teeth. Grantaire was very talented in that area.

“Probably,” agreed Grantaire. And with difficulty, they pulled apart and untangled themselves. Enjolras felt flushed and aroused and lighter than air and inspired. He felt charged and electrified so much so that it seemed possible to take on the government and its military single-handedly. He could write a thousand speeches right now. He could excite the hearts of all mankind into following him. He could win the world for the people.

“Wow, that was not the response I was expecting,” sighed Grantaire dreamily as he sunk into the couch. His hair was simply a mess, dark curls sticking up in every direction. Enjolras imagined he didn’t look much better. He tried to braid his hair to regain some semblance of decorum.

“What were you expecting?”

“I don’t know. A yes maybe. Possibly a no. Not this. Certainly not this.” Enjolras fidgeted nervously for a second.

“Was it a good response?” Grantaire looked up from where he was reclining in the cushions, saw Enjolras’ uncertainty, and promptly pulled the taller man towards him until they were sprawled out and cuddling on the couch. Grantaire tucked his chin into Enjolras’ neck as his arms curled around his torso.

“It was an unbelievably good response. It was better than I ever expected and then some. Okay?” Enjolras let himself be held. It was a nice feeling. He felt safe and protected and human and vulnerable in all the best ways. This wasn’t something he usually allowed for himself, but it felt natural with Grantaire.

“Okay,” he smiled softly. “Okay.”

“So just to confirm, because I like confirming things sometimes, we are dating, right?”

“Right.” Enjolras couldn’t stop grinning. His face was going to split in two soon if he kept this up. “Does this mean you’ll take me on dates?”

“You want me to take you on dates?” Grantaire’s grip tightened slightly and Enjolras could feel the man’s smile against his neck.

“Yes! I’ve never done dates before.”

“Have you ever done dating before?”

“No?” Enjolras hoped it wasn’t a problem.

“Well, then I suppose our dates will just have to be extra special. Hmm. What are you doing Sunday morning?” Enjolras thought about it. Sunday mornings were when he indulged himself just once and slept late. However, he would be willing to spend it with Grantaire.

“What do you have in mind?”

“Meet me here around seven and you’ll see.”

“Seven?”

“I’ll bring you coffee,” promised Grantaire. Enjolras shifted a bit so he could see Grantaire’s face. His eyes were half closed in contentedness and a gentle smile covered his face. Unable to resist, Enjolras pecked his nose, causing Grantaire to scrunch up his face.

“No, don’t do that. I hate my nose. Why would you want to kiss it?” Enjolras finished flipping himself over until their chests were pressed together. He traced Grantaire’s nose with his long fingers.

“Why do you hate it?” he asked as he pressed at Grantaire’s smooth skin. He could feel the man’s breath on his wrists, which hitched slightly as Enjolras traced his face.

“It’s so big and nasty,” complained Grantaire. He removed Enjolras’ hands from his nose, kissed each palm, and released them. Enjolras was having none of that, however, and kissed Grantaire on the tip of the nose again.

“Well I like it, so there.” Grantaire barked a laugh at that.

“Antagonistic to the last, are we, my dear Apollo?”

“Exactly. And you know better than to argue with me,” responded Enjolras with a sly grin.

“Actually, I think I’m the only one stupid enough to argue with you,” smirked Grantaire.

“But I always win.” No sooner had those words left his mouth when one of Grantaire’s arms tightened and they were flipping and he was suddenly trapped underneath Grantaire, his back pressing into the couch. The smooth movement left the student slightly breathless. He had no idea Grantaire could move like that. It was almost catlike in agility.

“You want to say that again?” Grantaire growled, his voice low and gravelly. Suddenly Enjolras realized that, no, he did not want to argue the point. He rather liked where they were right now, thank you very much, and Grantaire’s voice was sexy like that. He forgot he was supposed to respond as he stared into Grantaire’s eyes until Grantaire’s serious composure broke. The man laughed and swooped down to capture Enjolras’ willing lips. This activity engaged them for quite a while. Finally Enjolras sat up, grinning like a goon.

“You know, it’s getting late. I really must be going. It’s past Iris’ bedtime. Plus, classes. You are a terrible influence, you know. And don’t you have to be getting home as well?”

“I take that as the highest compliment you could offer,” said Grantaire as he moved so Enjolras could get off the couch. The atmosphere was light and cheery as they collected Enjolras’ bag and located Iris, who was asleep with the ducklings once more, four abandoned notecards scattered around them. Feeling guilty for disturbing her, Enjolras scooped up his cat, gave Grantaire a goodnight kiss, and left. He may or may not have whistled the entire walk back to his apartment, although he would deny it vehemently if asked. After all, Enjolras didn’t whistle even for when his thoughts were occupied by a certain someone.

At home, he sent a quick text to Combeferre that simply said, “when you’re right, you’re right.” Still smiling, he went to bed.


	6. In which there is the First Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was with a barely coherent hello that Enjolras greeted Grantaire on Sunday morning. Secretly, Enjolras was one of the worst morning people you could meet. In order to hide and combat that, he normally woke up at least a full hour before he had to be anywhere so he had plenty of time to drink coffee and wake up and appear human. But it was Sunday and it was early, and Grantaire was getting the full zombie treatment.

It was with a barely coherent hello that Enjolras greeted Grantaire on Sunday morning. Secretly, Enjolras was one of the worst morning people you could meet. In order to hide and combat that, he normally woke up at least a full hour before he had to be anywhere so he had plenty of time to drink coffee and wake up and appear human. But it was Sunday and it was early, and Grantaire was getting the full zombie treatment.

Grantaire took in Enjolras’ bleary appearance in his stride, merely grinning and handing him a cardboard container of four coffee cups where apparently all for him. Then he led Enjolras to a beat up, old, burnt orange car, practically buckled him in, and started driving. He didn’t try to talk; instead he was content to let Enjolras wake up on his own while music played softly in the background.

For the first twenty minutes, Enjolras dozed. The next twenty was spent drinking several successive cups of coffee while looking out the window. They had moved away from the city by this point, and trees and fields surrounded them on every side in vivid shades of green. He realized he had never asked where they were heading. And then he realized that he didn’t care too much. This car ride, even at the ungodly hour, was enjoyable. It was nice just sitting quietly with Grantaire while he listened to his boyfriend - his boyfriend! The excitement had yet to wear off - sing along softly to the radio, from rock songs to pop songs to everything in between. Grantaire had a pleasant voice that switched easily from genre to genre, and it soothed Enjolras to his very core.

Finally they pulled up along an old dirt road towards what looked like a farmhouse. Enjolras could see herds of cows milling about and some horses in a penned area. Where were they? Grantaire continued humming as he parked alongside an old tractor.

“We’re here,” he announced cheerfully. Enjolras checked the clock. It was 8:00. It had taken them an hour to get here. But to where had they gone?

“A farm?” he asked curiously. Grantaire rushed around to the passenger side of the car to open the door for Enjolras. Blushing a bit, he let Grantaire do exactly that.

“Sort of,” responded the man, gently tugging Enjolras forward. “Actually, this place belongs to the people who own my shelter. You’ll probably end up meeting them, but first I want to show you something. Come this way.” Enjolras followed Grantaire through a field, a herd of cows, and some tall grass before they came to the edge of a thick wood.

“Is this the part where you lure me to my death?” joked the student as he eyed the dark trees. Grantaire merely laughed and plunged forward. Enjolras had no choice but to rush after him. Grantaire hiked with sure feet through the woods, easily hopping over roots or ducking under branches. Enjolras labored a bit to keep up, although Grantaire had clearly slowed his pace to match the student’s. Enjolras spent his time doing many worthwhile things, but hiking he did not usually have time for. And this was uphill and difficult.

“Seriously though, I am not convinced you’re not planning to murder me. A little reassurance here?” Enjolras said as he pushed a few long sweaty blond strands of hair off his face. Grantaire grinned and turned around, catching both of Enjolras’ hands in his own. He back Enjolras up against a tree, and Enjolras could not help but be acutely aware of how close they were. He could feel Grantaire’s breath on his face and see each crystallined streak of blue in his irises and they were mesmerizing.

“A little reassurance is what you want?” breathed Grantaire, his pupils blown wide. Enjolras swallowed and watched Grantaire’s eyes follow the movement.

“Yeah,” he said, a little breathless himself, “some reassurance would be great. After all, we’re in the middle of the woods, and no one knows where we are. How do I know -” the rest of Enjolras’ sentence was cut off as warm lips pressed against his. His words forgotten, Enjolras eagerly returned the embrace, releasing a small sigh of happiness as he did. All too soon, Grantaire pulled away, his lips once more swollen and red. Enjolras moaned at the lack of contact.

“Is that reassurance enough?” Enjolras wanted to pull him back to tell him what he thought of that, but Grantaire sprinted off through the forest. Cursing wildly, Enjolras crashed after him, determined to snag another kiss, a longer one at that. But Grantaire kept just out of reach, laughing all the while. With his sweet laughter, curly hair, and light footsteps, he seemed to be one of the forest more than human being.

Just as suddenly as Grantaire had started running, he stopped. Enjolras, unable to slow down in time, slammed into him, sending them both sprawling into an abrupt clearing of soft grass.

“Oof,” exclaimed Grantaire as Enjolras hastily rolled off him, apologizing all the while. Grantaire just laughed, always so unbothered by these sorts of things whereas Enjolras found himself overthinking every move and every word.

“No worries,” said Grantaire breezily. He rolled over onto his back, watching Enjolras rise and dust himself off. For lack of knowing what to do, Enjolras looked around.

The small clearing they had arrived at was covered in a thick rug of emerald grass with a few boulders dotting the landscape. It was no more than ten feet by eight feet and was situated at the edge of a cliff. The land dropped away to reveal a breathtaking view of the farm and the fields and trees beyond. The sun was high in the sky by this point, and illuminate even the far distant scenes. Enjolras, who had grown up and lived in various cities all his life, was awestruck. He had never seen a view such as this. He had always wanted to climb to high heights, but never had the time. He whirled around to look at Grantaire lounging on the ground, a thank you and a question on his lips. As was often Enjolras’ way, the question escaped first.

“Why here?” Grantaire reached up a hand which Enjolras accepted. He let his boyfriend - boyfriend! - tug him onto the grass beside him.

“I figured you spend so much time trying to save the world, you never really stop long enough to take a look the world you’re working for. Here look.” Grantaire sat up, grabbing the bag he had brought with him, and pulled out, of all things, a tupperware of sugar cookies and two containers of frosting - one chocolate, one vanilla. “I have food. So we’re going to sit here and eat and appreciate the world and maybe each other.” Enjolras accepted the things handed to him with a surprised look on his face, and Grantaire ducked his head with a self-deprecating smile.

“Sorry, I should’ve warned you that I’m actually awful at this stuff. But I think I should get points for trying. Can I get points for trying?” Enjolras, who had never heard such a level of uncertainty in Grantaire’s voice, set down a tub of frosting and reached over to grab his hand.

“Hey, this is wonderful.” And he meant it. It was not how he pictured his first date ever. In fact, he had never pictured himself dating. So the fact that he had a partner who was even taking him on dates was surprising and more than enough for Enjolras.

“Oh you’re just saying that,” said Grantaire, but he looked pleased nonetheless. Enjolras bumped shoulders with him before turning his attention to the cookies and frosting. It was an unusual combination, made odder by the absence of knives. Instead, Grantaire broke off bits off the cookies and used them to scoop out large piles of frosting.

“So do you come here often?” Enjolras was curious. It was such a serene, hidden location. He could see it being hard to leave.

“Um,” considered Grantaire, rolling over to his back. “I suppose. I come here a lot to catch the sunrise. The view is pretty spectacular.” Enjolras stared blankly at him.

“The sunrise? Do you ever sleep? No wonder you were napping the first time I met you!”

“I forgot about that! I was, wasn’t I?” He grinned. “Sorry. If it makes you feel better, I thought I was still sleeping when I woke up to see you. You were far too beautiful to be real, after all. But then you started speaking and you were angry, and it all make more sense.”

“Sorry,” groaned Enjolras, burying his head in his hands. “I was rather rude, wasn’t I?” Grantaire laughed loudly, throwing an arm over Enjolras’ waist.

“You slammed down on that bell like you were the second coming yourself. That’s when I decided I liked you.”

“That? Really? That was not exactly my finest moment.” But whatever apology was about to escape his mouth next vanished as he suddenly felt Grantaire’s lips on the back of his neck. His limbs went limp with pleasure, causing Grantaire to chuckle lightly as he continued kissing Enjolras. A shiver traveled down his spine from the vibrations of the laugh.

“I like all of your moments,” whispered Grantaire into Enjolras’ skin. Enjolras was suddenly glad that he had been too lazy to braid his hair this morning and instead had thrown it up in a messy bun. He liked the feeling of the soft kisses Grantaire peppered across his neck. Grantaire kept talking in between kisses.

“I like when you’re grouchy and when you’re overtired and overworked. I like when you’re leading your little club and you’re alight with fire and passion. I like when you doze off on my couch and when you talk to Iris when you think no one can hear you. I like when you glare at me for interrupting you to eat. I like when you kiss me and I like when you smile and I like when your hair is messy and you’re half asleep. And when you argue politics and activism with me. Enjolras, I like you all the time.” At those words which lit a fire in Enjolras’ belly, he turned over so Grantaire’s next kiss landed on his face.

Then he tangled his hands in Grantaire’s loose curls and pulled him close so Grantaire practically fell on him. Grantaire tasted of chocolate frosting and sugar cookies and coffee. The weight of his body was a comforting one as Enjolras swiped his tongue inside Grantaire’s mouth. He may not know what he was doing in a relationship, but he was quite certain he was quickly falling in love with the man before him. It was terrifying and a risk that Enjolras had never calculated into his plans before, but it was a risk he couldn’t help but take. There was simply no help for it. He was falling in love with Grantaire at a dizzying pace. Grantaire pulled back for a second.

“What’s that smile for?”

“What smile?” Enjolras belatedly realized he was beaming ear from ear.

“That one. I know I’m a good kisser, but even I’m not that good. What are you thinking about?”

“You,” answered Enjolras truthfully as he looked at Grantaire who still leaned over him, framed by the brilliantly blue sky.

“Well that’s incredibly touching and sappy,” smirked Grantaire.

“And it’s completely your fault, so you shouldn’t complain.”

“How is it my fault?”

“You started it by saying all those nice things about me,” explained Enjolras with what he thought was sound logic. “Therefore, any sap on my part is in reaction to yours.”

“Oh you think I was saying nice things? Well I wasn’t. I was just saying true things that happen to also be nice.”

“And you think I’m not?”

“I don’t know, are you?”

“You tell me.” And Enjolras surged up to bring Grantaire into another kiss. This one had much more power in it as Enjolras bit and scrapped at Grantaire’s luscious mouth. It was returned with equal passion until Enjolras was left gasping for breath and Grantaire’s lips were cherry red and slick from all their kissing. He could only imagine what he looked like. Thoroughly debauched, if Grantaire’s appreciative expression was anything to go by.

“So,” said Enjolras, only a tiny bit smug, “do you believe me now?”

“I think I might need a bit more convincing,” breathed Grantaire gleefully. Enjolras wasted no time in pulling Grantaire back down who easily complied.


	7. In which there are stake outs and questions and surprising revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “But why do you think he’s hiding his place from me? Do you think he’s ashamed of it? Maybe he’s hiding something there. Maybe he’s a drug lord. Maybe he’s involved with someone else and doesn’t want me to find out!” cried Enjolras, getting more and more worked up. Combeferre carefully wiped his mouth with his napkin before glaring at Enjolras.

Their date that day was the first of many. Grantaire took great pleasure in surprising Enjolras and bringing him new places. From kidnapping him to the beach one day or bringing him to a special exhibit for Enlightenment thinkers, he constantly excited Enjolras. At the same time, they returned often to the farm and surrounding woods, where Enjolras became acquainted with the owner of the shelter, Jean Valjean, and his daughter. After their third visit to the farm, Enjolras succeeded in convincing Cosette to attend his club, where she quickly captured the heart of Eponine Thenardier.

Yet in all that time, through the dates and the arguments and the kissing and companionable silence, Enjolras never saw Grantaire’s apartment. They met at either the shelter or Enjolras’ place, and Grantaire always changed topics whenever Enjolras asked about his place. Enjolras didn’t know what to make of it, and he said exactly that to Combeferre one night when they were enjoying their customary breakfast for dinner at the local diner.

“Just ask him straight out, Enjolras. Open communication is always the best way to go about these things.”

“But why do you think he’s hiding his place from me? Do you think he’s ashamed of it? Maybe he’s hiding something there. Maybe he’s a drug lord. Maybe he’s involved with someone else and doesn’t want me to find out!” cried Enjolras, getting more and more worked up. Combeferre carefully wiped his mouth with his napkin before glaring at Enjolras.

“Stop it. Do you actually think Grantaire would ever cheat on you?”

“No,” he muttered.

“Exactly. So stop jumping to conclusions. Just ask. He’ll tell you, I know he will.” Enjolras frowned at Combeferre but didn’t argue. Instead he planned.

The next morning Enjolras dragged himself out of bed bright and early. He wanted to arrive at the shelter and stake out the area to wait for Grantaire’s arrival. Then he could ask him directly. Iris followed him around the quiet apartment as he threw on a green sweatshirt that he might have stolen from Grantaire and twisted his hair into something slightly more manageable than the crazy hairdo he had woken with.

“You know what would be better?” Enjolras complained to the kitten as he waited for coffeepot to make him coffee. “If Grantaire just lived here. Then I wouldn’t have to stake out places. Because I’d know where he’d be. I’d wake up, and he’d be here and that would be perfect. I don’t need all this space. I don’t even want all this space. I hate how quiet it’s been since Ferre moved out. But if Grantaire lived here, he’d make this place bright and lively, because that’s just who he is. He’s already got a toothbrush here! We could, oh, we could have his paintings on the walls and his books could fit in with mine, although I think there would be some doubles amongst our collections, and you could see Michelangelo and Bast and the Fates all the time, and I could see Grantaire all the time, and I wouldn’t have to be going to him right now to ask why he’s hiding his apartment from me.” Enjolras stopped, thoughts rushing through his head at an incessant pace. He needed to call Combeferre.

Three rings in, his friend picked up, voice groggy from sleep. “This better be a fucking emergency. It’s 4:30, Enjolras.” Enjolras paid his friend’s mood no mind.

“What if I just asked Grantaire to move in with me?”

“What?” Combeferre sounded more alert now. Enjolras could hear Courfeyrac complaining faintly in the background, and gathered that he gotten out of bed, but Enjolras was too excited by the possibilities of this new arrangement to feel guilty.

“What if I asked Grantaire to move in with me?” he repeated more slowly. “Seriously though. We already spend almost all our time together, and I really like him, actually I think I love him, and then I could see him all the time.”

“You know, Enjolras, I told you if you’re lonely you can tell me. I could always get you another cat to join the one Jehan got you. Don’t you think this is moving a bit fast? You’ve only been dating, what, four months?”

“Five!” Enjolras felt giddy. This was the best idea he had ever had at 4:30 in the morning. In fact, it might be the best idea he had yet. He balanced his phone on his shoulder as he poured the now finished coffee into a travel mug.

“Exactly. That’s not very long. I really think you should consider waiting a bit.”

“Why? You’re the one who told me having a relationship might be good for me. Anyway, I have to get going if I’m going to get to the shelter before him.”

“Enjolras —” But Enjolras had already hung up to grab his keys and rush from his place to the shelter. He arrived there shortly before five. Since all the lights were off and the door was locked, he could conclude he had made it before Grantaire. This pleased him, and he settled against the front door with a book and his coffee so that Grantaire wouldn’t be able to enter without seeing him.

Within a few minutes his coffee was forgotten about and he had fallen back asleep. He dozed outside the shelter, completely oblivious to the passing of time and the slowly rising sun until the door behind his back gave way and opened. Practically spilling his travelling mug, he jerked upright and snuffled a bit, trying to pretend he hadn’t fallen asleep. Turning around wildly, he looked for Grantaire.

The poor guy stood framed in the doorway, his hair still mussed from sleep and eyes blinking in confusion at Enjolras with Bastet wrapped around his shoulders and a duckling or three waddling around his feet. Enjolras just felt a deep stab of disappointment that Grantaire had managed to sneak in without seeing Enjolras first. So he started talking without thinking.

“How did you do that? I’ve been here since five in the morning! What time do you get in? Is there a secret back entrance I don’t know about? I wanted to talk to you!”

“There’s always the phone,” yawned Grantaire. Nevertheless, he invited him in. Grasping one of Enjolras’ hands with a warm grip, he managed a completely sincere smile through his confusion and sleepiness. “What’s up?”

What was up? What had he woken up so early for? Oh yes! Living arrangements! “Why won’t you tell me where you live? I want to see your place! You’ve seen mine. Why is it such a secret. Are you hiding dead bodies or something? Illegal baby bats?” Okay, so it was not Enjolras’ most eloquent moment, but he had yet to drink his coffee and it was, by quick check of his watch, around 7:30 in the morning. Besides, he could not articulate why this was important. It just was. A home was the reflection of someone, right? How they personalized the space, whether or not their bedroom was messy, what food they stored in the cupboards, they all explained bits and pieces of the person living in it. Enjolras had shown his place to Grantaire, and while he could respect his boyfriend if he decided to keep his place secret, he wanted an explanation!

Grantaire sighed heavily. “Coffee first,” he said, tugging a little at the hand he was still holding. They went into the break room where the coffee pot was already up and running. Enjolras waited as Grantaire pulled out two mugs, filled them with coffee, added a healthy amount of whiskey to one, and passed the other to Enjolras who was glad to forgo his now cold travel mug. As Enjolras sipped the warm beverage (in the red mug, as always), he looked around the break room for something to do.

That’s when he noticed the pile of messy sheets on the couch and the pillow on the end of it. Slowly, he looked back at Grantaire’s messy hair, overlong t-shirt paired with sweatpants, and bare feet. The gears in his brain churned.

“Grantaire,” he started hesitantly, “have you - have you been sleeping here?” Because it would make sense. Even Jehan had commented more than once that the number of hours Granatire spent at the shelter was ridiculous. Plus there was all the random crap littering the break room that didn’t really belong there, from the canvases to the old fencing gear to the piles of clothes - clothes that Grantaire had been wearing. And suddenly Enjolras felt a wave of guilt for forcing this truth out of his boyfriend when he had so clearly wanted it to remain a secret.

He was feeling so horrible and guilty he didn’t notice Grantaire’s guarded face soften until two calloused hands gently cupped his face. There was a fluttering of wings, and Enjolras cringed, but Michelangelo only softly settled in Enjolras’ own luxurious blond locks and cawed reassuringly, if you could describe a crow’s call as reassuring.

“Hey now, don’t go feeling guilty. Yeah, you’re right, I have been living here. For a couple of months, actually. I was kicked out of my apartment several weeks before I even met you. It’s not a big deal.”

“Why were you kicked out?” Enjolras knew his voice was uncharacteristically small, but the guilt at his actions still gnawed on his stomach. Why couldn’t he ever let things lie? Why must he always press and pressure?

“Honestly? The neighbors complained about Michelangelo. Turns out you’re not really allowed to live with crows in my building. It was either get rid of my buddy or get rid of my place. An easy decision, really.” Enjolras listened carefully to Grantaire’s light tone, comforted somehow by the unaccustomed weight on his head. At least that meant that Michelangelo liked him now. That was something.

“Besides, unlike when I left home, I had somewhere to go instead of the streets. That was nice. So don’t worry, okay? I’ll find a new place soon, and then I promise you can come over and leave your empty coffee cups everywhere and forget to take off your shoes when you sit on my couch and root through my stuff to your heart’s content, okay?” Enjolras nodded, then gathered up his courage, but this had really been a two-part stakeout.

“Or you could just move in with me?” he offered. There was a pause as he waited anxiously.

“I don’t want you offering that because you feel bad,” said Grantaire with an edge in his voice Enjolras had never heard. And that, more than anything, pushed Enjolras through his guilt back to a place where he could talk again.

“No, no, no, I don’t mean that at all! I was already planning on - wait, I was talking to Combeferre about asking you this just this morning! I can prove it!” Without waiting for Grantaire’s response, Enjolras fumbled for his phone, nearly dropping it in his excitement and, for the second time that morning, dialed Combeferre’s number, putting it on speaker. This time it was Courfeyrac who picked up.

“Fuck off, Enjolras, it’s not even eight. We’re sleeping.”

“Give me Combeferre,” Enjolras demanded, risking a glance at Grantaire. The man looked tired and nervous, tapping an agitated pattern on the handle of his coffee mug. Courfeyrac groaned.

“Ferre, your friend is calling again.”  
“My friend?” They could hear Combeferre’s sleepy voice through the other end. “Why’s he only ever my friend when he’s doing things like calling at ungodly hours? Why isn’t he our friend?”

“Because he’s only ever calling for you at ungodly hours. Now talk to him so we can go back to sleep.” There was some shuffling at the phone was passed around. Enjolras waited with bated breath. Grantaire had to know that he wasn’t asking out of pity or charity.

“What’s up, Enjolras?” Combeferre, bless his heart, gave a valiant effort trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice. Enjolras noticed anyway, but he ignored it. This was more important.

“Do you remember what I called you about this morning?”

“If by morning you mean four am, then yes. You were going to ask Grantaire to move in with you because you love him and want him to be around all the time - wait, did you already ask Grantaire to move in with you?”

“What!?’ came Courfeyrac’s background yelp. “Enjolras! Details! I need details!” But Enjolras wasn’t listening. Instead he was looking hopefully at Grantaire, who face had blossomed into a genuine if shocked smile.

“Hang up,” Grantaire mouthed. Combeferre and Courfeyrac were still talking on the other end.

“Serious, I need to know! I have bets placed!”

“What did he say? Enjolras? Did he say yes? Are you okay? Enjolras?”

“Guys, I have to go,” Enjolras said quickly before hanging up, cutting off Courfeyrac’s last squawk. “So?” he said, cursing the nerves that wracked his voice.

“You love me?”

“Will you move in with me?” Enjolras cursed his unsteady voice as he blushed in front of Grantaire’s wide-eyed expression. Grantaire took a step forward.

“You love me?” he repeated. A blush spread slowly over Enjorlas’ face.

“Look, I know it’s too early to be saying that or whatever so, um, please don’t feel uncomfortable or pressured or -” and then warm lips were on his and even after months of kissing Grantaire, this still took his breath away, and there was something tentative and precious about this kiss, leaving him wordless when Grantaire drew away.

“I love you,” Grantaire responded. He grinned. “I love you.” His eyes flicked up to where the crow still sat buried in Enjolras’ hair. With gentle hands, he untangled Michelangelo and set him on the counter. Then he pulled Enjolras in for another kiss.

“Wait,” said Enjorlas a few minutes later, “does this mean you’ll move in with me?”

“Of course,” murmured Grantaire against Enjolras’ lips. “Of course I will.” Smiling into the kiss, Enjolras threw his arms around Grantaire, almost knocking the man backwards with the force of his embrace. Hissing, Bastet leapt off his shoulder and sprinted away.

“So,” panted Enjolras after an undetermined amount of time had passed. “Should we start packing your things?”

“Right now?” asked Grantaire breathlessly. Enjolras thought for a moment that he would never stop smiling.

“Right now.”


	8. In which we come to the end of our story

They were quite the sight. They were the town’s favorite sight, but they were still quite the sight. Two aged gentlemen ambling slowly hand in hand with a procession of obedient animals trailing behind them and an old, docile crow sitting in the hair of one would catch anyone’s eye. But they were well loved by everyone and newcomers were always treated to the story of their life together.

“You see that one there?” folk might say. “The one with the bird in his hair? He runs the largest animal shelter in the country. No animal is turned away, wild or tame. He takes care of all of them and finds homes for as many as possible.”

Or they might start talking about the man with silver hair in a long braid contentedly holding the wrinkled hand of the animal activist.

“Yes, him in the red jacket. He’s a professor at the college here but don’t let that fool you. He can still get a politician kicked out of office just by declaring suspicions. In his spare time he runs the activist group “Les Amis de L’ABC” and is always recruiting new students to join. They started the government reforms of the twenties. You should take a class with him if you can.”

But no matter their individual accomplishments, they had won the hearts and minds of the people around them by the way they were still so obviously in love after years together. It wasn’t unusual to spot them arguing politics or debating philosophical thinkers as they took their long walks together. But don’t let all the disagreements fool you. There was more than enough affection shared between them. In fact, the one called Grantaire was famous for interrupting the other’s lectures with flowers or baby animals or a bus in which he kidnapped the entire class to go on a hike, saying the fresh air would be good for them. Whereas his husband, named Enjolras, had covered his lecture hall with paintings made by Grantaire and invited him in as a guest speaker to hold a debate in front of the students and further expand their minds.

The doors of their house which was connected to Grantaire’s shelter were always open. Anyone was welcomed and a steady stream of visitors could be seen coming in and out, often including other original members of Les Amis. People of the town no longer even blinked at the sight of the famous poet Jehan Prouvaire or the of head of education, Combeferre, joining Grantaire and Enjolras on their walks.

When Grantaire’s crow of fifty three years passed away, the entire town ground to a halt to support the couple and honor Michelangelo. The children of the town especially mourned, as they adored Grantaire and his traveling petting zoo. Plus he was never too busy to explain the histories and legends behind the names each of his companions carried.

That day Enjolras had kept his arms firmly wrapped around Grantaire’s shaking shoulders and pressed kiss after kiss to his weathered brow. The whole town felt unsettled and strange for the next few days until Enjolras and Grantaire were once more spotted on their daily walks, even if they walked a little slower than normal.

They never had children. When asked they invariably gave the same answer, stating that children meant that they would have to share the other more than they already did and they simply didn’t want to. Then they would smile at each other and the asker would melt from the almost palpable love shared between them. And perhaps they never raised children. But the people of the town were their family and the kids their grandchildren and the world their home.

Enjolras and Grantaire still bickered. Enjolras still lost himself in learning and planning and leading, and Grantaire still had to remind him to take breaks and eat. Grantaire still left his things spilled all over the house, Enjolras still complained about picking up after him. Enjolras still loved stealing Grantaire’s clothes and Grantaire still insisted in hiding in Enjolras’ arms when shows or movies grew too scary. And they still talked nonstop about the first pet they had shared, a grey little kitten named Iris and how she brought them together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I really appreciate all the positive feedback I've received. If you want to say hi, I'm on tumblr at steverogersisapunk.tumblr.com


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